Silver and Gold
by girlmonstering
Summary: Sophie is 17 years old and her world has just come crashing down around her. Either she's just discovered magic and become a spy for The Order, or she's having some kind of incredibly vivid hallucination. Both options seem equally likely. (I'm crap at summaries. Please read anyway. There are quidditch lessons, parties, irresponsible spellcasting and a Slytherin feminist society.)
1. Prologue

**Notes:**

 **This is set in their seventh year. Voldemort is back but still amassing followers.**

 **I've already got several chapters of this written (all much longer than this prologue) but I need to edit them. (The characters aren't quite fully-formed yet- I'm working on it.)**

 **If you read this and think you might be interested in reading more, please please review or follow or something. Validate me.**

 **Slytherin scheming, bizarre proto-feminist societies, awkward dates and a sapphic Cho Chang coming up (+ much more!). (Actually that makes it sound terrible, doesn't it? NONE OF THAT, then.)**

 **Disclaimer:**

 **The Harry Potter books do not belong to me. Any original characters do, but I don't actually care that much.**

Prologue

 _27th August, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (what the fuck is this place, anyway?)_

'I, of course, apologise for asking yet another time,-'

I rolled my eyes. When would he accept that I was fine with this?

I'd thought about it, considered the available alternatives, and this was my choice. The old man didn't have to keep beating himself up over a decision that I'd already made.

'I'd just like to clarify that you are aware of what you are agreeing to. You are aware, then, that there is no way to reverse this spell? It is an ancient and potentially dangerous piece of magic, and there are no spells known to undo it. Remember that you can always-'

'I get it. I'm ready.'

Whoops.

I regretted my tone as soon as the words words were spoken. Cringing, I prayed that my angry interruption hadn't set us back another half hour in this interminable discussion.

He, for his part, sighed, looking unutterably sad in that moment.

Then, Professor Dumbledore, who I'd met for the first time only yesterday, lifted his wand and began the incantation that was going to change my life forever.

As he spoke each successive word of the pages-long spell, a kind of electric tension built up in the air. I felt my skin begin to hum with magical energy, and began to experience, for the first time, an inkling of doubt.

Was this really the right choice? Would it have been smarter to just go back home, while I could?

Just as I began to think that I'd made an enormous mistake, I felt another wave of magical energy go through me, and everything faded into black.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

 **Here's the first chapter!**

 **This is still very much setup, which is why the chapter is fairly short and action-free.**

 **If there's anyone reading this, please please review. I'm interested to see what people think (especially when the main storylines kick off).**

Chapter 1

 _Date: ? Location: ?_

Drifting back into consciousness, I felt stranded in blank space, waiting for my sight and some sensation to return. I could hear muffled voices above me, as if speaking through cotton wool ,but my senses told me little else. The speech became gradually more distinct, morphing from meaningless chatter into actual words forming coherent sentences that I fought to make sense of.

'I think she is beginning to wake up.'

Professor Dumbledore's voice, sounding cautious and oddly mournful.

When I'd first met him, my parents had just died. For some reason, the shock hadn't quite hit me then, and all I could think about was how he looked like a magician out of a fairy tale. He'd stared at me with piercing blue eyes, seeming to recognise me, even though I'd never seen anyone who looked anything like him before.

'Albus. Are you sure that this was the right choice? She's just a child. Not many witches her age could even begin to understand the sacrifices that she has made, and the risks that she'll be undertaking.'

I didn't recognize this voice. It was female, and sounded as though the voice's owner was afraid and unused to be arguing with Dumbledore in this way.

Listening to these voices overhead, I'd gradually became conscious of lying on a soft surface somewhere warm, covered by a blanket. I seemed to be wearing something silky, not the plain cotton skirt and t-shirt I'd worn the day before. All of this added up to... something. I was getting pieces of the puzzle but they weren't quite fitting together yet.

I still didn't quite understand what I was doing here, wherever this was. Why wasn't I waking up at home to the sound and smell of my parents making breakfast and arguing downstairs?

Something had happened. Something bad, that I couldn't quite place.

'Sophie? Are you awake?'

Dumbledore again.

I slowly blinked my eyes open, taking in the stark white walls and ceiling and harsh lighting of the room that I was in.

Unfamiliar.

'Where am I?'

Dumbledore smiled, and I noticed absently the way that his eyes were glistening.

He stood leaning over the bed I was on, his face close enough to mine that I could see each individual wrinkle on his face, along with he tufty white hair of his beard.

Was this some kind of hallucination? So far, it read like the plot of a bad spy novel. I'd been taken away (kidnapped?) by an old man, who told me that he was a wizard, and I could be one too. Or, a witch. Whatever.

This would be the point right after I'd groaned in frustration at how gullible the main character was. A seventeen year old girl, for God's sake, and she believes that the strange old man is going to teach her magic if she goes with him.

'This is the hospital wing. You fainted towards the end of the spell, but it worked.'

Oh. The spell. God. Did that mean that I was... I had... Could it really be true?

I focussed on the sensations in my body, trying to detect any obvious changes, but I was still pretty out of it, and it was difficult to tell whether the weirdness I picked up on was the result of having been unconscious, or indicative of a greater change.

The smile faded from the aged wizard's face to be replaced by a grave expression.

'You might want to look at a mirror. A full length one has been brought here, and is standing in the corner of the room. '

Right. Fucking hell. Might as well get it over with.

Now that I was almost fully awake, I could tell that the new clothes weren't all that felt different about my body.

Not wanting to lose my nerve, I swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed that I had woken up in. As I staggered a little, I tried not to think about how the floor was further away than I was used to.

I walked over to the mirror, and felt, with each step, an entirely new set of muscles shift under my skin. When I reached the mirror, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the shock before looking up. Upon seeing my reflection, I stared, dumbfounded. For a minute or so, I couldn't move, couldn't even think clearly. My eyes were showing me something that should have been impossible, and my mind couldn't even begin to process it.

This? This was her? Or rather, this was me?

The girl staring back at me from the mirror was a good few inches taller than I'd been before, and wearing a white silk nightgown with ruffles that looked like it had come straight out of the Victorian era.

Her face was squarer than mine had been, but not unattractively so. Her cheeks were themselves slim, but rounded out by the solid shape of her jaw. Her lips... were an odd shade of raspberry, and plump. Her eyes were brown, and made a striking contrast to the shimmering waves of hair that cascaded around her shoulders.

The hair that fell heavily around her shoulders was a shade of grey that shifted every time I moved.

Where the afternoon sun hit it, it looked like molten silver, or thread that had been woven from moonlight.

Where it lay across my left shoulder, which was in shadow, its appearance was that of steel wool.

This was so odd. What did- Never mind. I couldn't even begin to process this right now.

'How long was I unconscious?'

'Two days, Sophie.'

This reply came from the unfamiliar woman's voice that I had heard.

I pulled my gaze away from the mirror with some difficulty to look in the direction that her voice had been coming from.

She stood to my right, an imposing middle-aged woman wearing an outfit matched in strangeness only by that of Professor Dumbledore. While he wore what seemed to be a midnight blue dressing gown embroidered with golden moons and silver suns, she wore a purple dressing gown and a witches hat that seemed to have been taken straight out of my childhood books.

'Who are you?', I blurted out, immediately conscious of how rude that sounded. If Professor Dumbledore was any indicator, these people were more than a little old-fashioned, so it wouldn't do to speak too rashly.

'I am Professor McGonagall. Head of Gryffindor House.'

The woman gave a cough at these words, and straightened her already stiff posture.

I think Professor Dumbledore had mentioned Gryffindor House. It wasn't the one that I was supposed to join. I was going to be joining the snake one- Slithery?

The woman gave me a sharp look before beginning to speak again.

'While you were unconscious, Professor Dumbledore and I created a back story that you will need to learn before the other students arrive tomorrow. You will be Sophia Nagornichna, recently discovered heiress to the ancient Nagornichna estate of Russia. The Nagornichna estate is pureblood, and was until now considered lost. You have been living in hiding with your servants for the past seventeen years, waiting until the dark lord rose again.'

'The dark lord? As in... Lord Voldemort?,'

She flinched at the name, then nodded sharply.

'He's … the really evil guy, right?'

She sighed, and looked despairingly towards Professor Dumbledore.

'Albus, I can't do this.'

She spoke in a tone at once upset and affronted.

'The girl doesn't know who He Who Must Not Be Named is. She only found out that magic existed four days ago, and she has spent two of those days unconscious. How on earth will she convince them that she is the cream of Russian pureblood society?'

'She will manage, Minerva.'

'You're setting her up for certain failure.'

Dumbledore's blue eyes, normally so calm, seemed to blaze with fury as he stared at Professor McGonagall, saying, thunderously

'She has magical abilities far beyond those of most witches her age. Do you really believe that I would sacrifice a child in such a foolish way? If you are not willing to have a part in this, then I ask that you leave and mention this to no one.'

His gaze softened as he continued, more quietly,

'I will not think the worse of you for it.'

The woman stared back at him for a moment before nodding once more and walking briskly out of the room.

The white-haired wizard watched her leave, and, turning back to me, assumed the same placid gaze as before. He smiled gently, an eerie sight after the argument that had just taken place, and said with great seriousness,

'Miss Nagornichna, If you are feeling capable of doing so, I would like to instruct you on the manners and history of wizarding society. With a basic knowledge of those subjects, good observation, and caution when befriending any members of Slytherin house, you should be able to fit in to the right social circles with no trouble.'


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes:**

 **Eep! I'm trying to post the first few chapters as soon as possible so that any readers can get a sense of the actual plotline. I'm still editing as I go along, but I apologise in advance for any mistakes.**

 **As always: follow, favourite and review, review, review.**

 _Monday 1st September_

Ok. Calm. Deep breaths. It was almost time.

I'd watched this years First Year students get sorted by the hat, feeling too nervous to even appreciate the sheer ridiculous spectacle of an apparently sentient hat that was brought out once a year in order to sing a song and shout words. Words which appeared to play a great role in defining the next seven years of an individual's life.

From what I'd been told, the house that you were sorted into could make or break you as a witch or wizard. Gryffindor, and you'd get a reputation for reckless heroics. Ravenclaw, and you'd pretty much had NERD stamped on your forehead in indelible ink. Hufflepuffs were, by all accounts, lovely but a bit dim.

Slytherins were an... interesting house.

Dumbledore had put it in the kindest of terms, but the house I was about to be sorted in to was known, above all else, for evil, racism and ruthless ambition. To put it simply, if you heard of a British wizard who'd commited some awful crime, you knew he was a Slytherin.

Genocide? Rape? Murder? Corruption, extortion?

Slytherin.

Just my luck, that.

From my position behind the curtain that divided a side passage from the Great Hall, I had watched the faces of eleven year-old children flicker with fear, disappointment and glee as their houses were announced. Now Dumbledore had stood up from his seat at the professor's table, and was poised, about to speak.

He cleared his throat, and silence fell instantaneously.

'I am pleased to announce that we have another new student joining us this year. As her circumstances are rather unusual, Miss Sophia Nagornichna will be joining Hogwarts in her seventh year.'

You could almost see the ripples as a wave of surprise went through the mass of students sat in the hall. The table with the silver and green banners above it appeared to show the most interest, many of the students becoming very animated in discussing the announcement.

Dumbledore had predicted this. A member of the Nagornichna estate was apparently big news in pureblood terms, and every Slytherin student of note would be playing a political role on behalf of their parents in how they received it.

Dumbledore coughed, and the hall fell silent again.

'I would like to invite Miss Nagornichna to take part in the sorting ceremony.'

Another murmur went through the hall, this time seeming to come almost entirely from the Slytherin table.

A black haired Slytherin boy stood up, to the cheers of his classmates, and shouted

'Why bother? She's obviously ours!'

Offering a winning grin to the students around him, he bowed theatrically and sat down again.

Laughter spread around the hall. Professor Dumbledore, for his part, appeared unaffected.

As the hall grew silent again, this time in anticipation, I realised that this was my cue to walk forwards. I had to go out there, in front of everyone, and climb the rickety stairs to the platform where the Sorting Hat was perched atop a chair.

As I stepped forward, I became conscious of all eyes on the room staring at me. I felt my heartbeat hammering in my ears, incredibly loud, and tried to focus on moving each foot in front of the other. The last thing I needed was to fall over, but I was shaking so hard that it felt almost inevitable at this point.

Thankfully, some miracle allowed me to retain my balance.

Reaching the chair, after what felt like an eternity but was in reality a quick walk of a few metres, I lifted the grubby, battered hat, and, sitting down, placed it gingerly atop my head.

 _'Oh, hello. Dumbledore warned me about you.'_

I'd been told about the hat's voice, but it still somehow came as a shock. Magic still seemed completely unreal, and this incredibly beaten up talking accessory was just the latest in a series of things that I didn't quite believe in, even though I was seeing them first hand.

 _'Not believe in me? Oh, I'm real. As real as magic itself, and nearly as old.'_

'What happens now?', I thought at the hat,

'Don't you already know where I'm meant to be?'

 _'Oh, of course. Dumbledore told me. It does some good to put on a little show, though, make a delay. Even if its just to shock that presumptuous Zabini.'_

The hat sounded old, and kind of crotchety.

 _'Just as arrogant as he was when I sorted him, six years ago.'_

'Zabini?'

 _'He's the one who shouted. Doubted my ability, the little fool.'_

I heard what I can only describe as the sound of a hat sighing, all dusty ancient fabric and annoyance.

 _'Though he's right to think that I'll sort you in to_ _SLYTHERIN!'_ the hat concluded, shouting the last word out to the entire hall.

As cheering broke out from the Slytherin tables, some members of the other houses clapped, but most just stared at me. Whether with interest or repulsion, I couldn't tell.

When I came to the closest end of a Slytherin table, I saw a group of students who looked about my age, one of them the black haired boy- Zabini. He was sat next to a pale boy with blonde hair, who upon seeing me approach shoved his neighbour to the side and gestured for me to sit down between them.

This must be Malfoy. Dumbledore had said that I should try to befriend him, so I sat down and turned to him with a smile. He looked back at me with a clear expression of appraisal.

'Nagornichna. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy family.'

'This,' he said, gesturing to Zabini, 'Is Blaise Zabini. I think you'll find that I'm a very useful person to know in this school, and in wizarding society at large. Zabini- well, he's alright.'

He smirked at this last point. I smiled back politely, and turned to the food that had just appeared on the table in front of us, glad to have an excuse not to talk.

* * *

 _1st September, the 7th year girl's dormitories, Slytherin Dungeons_

'Hi. I'm... Sophia Nagornichna,'

I faltered, remembering that 'hi' was probably too casual for a first introduction to a fellow member of pureblood society, then tripping over my new name as I cursed myself for this slip.

I'd learnt the previous day that while I had status among these people simply by virtue of the heritage that I claimed, my identity as pureblood heiress would only be believed if I followed the many rules of etiquette that governed the behaviour of pureblood wizards and witches.

When Dumbledore had explained the main rules to me (which centred around formality, maintaining impeccable behaviour when out in public, and making sure to assert your status over anyone who was considering 'below' you), I'd been reminded strongly of what I knew about Victorian society from history class (which, admittedly, wasn't much).

The girl I'd just adressed, who stood in front of me at the entrance to my room, was strikingly beautiful.

She had a combination of wide emerald eyes and shoulder length wavy black hair that brought to mind stories of faery princesses. (Although, judging by how the last few days had been going, it was probably only a matter of time until someone told me that faeries existed.) Her facial structure was similarly incredible, with impossibly high cheekbones and the kind of small, dark red pouting lips that can reduce grown men to simpering idiots.

'I'm Pansy Parkinson. Pleased to meet you.'

She smiled, giving me the kind of scrutinising look that I'd already grown used to receiving from Slytherin students.

I had found this room with the help of a younger girl who I'd met in the Slytherin common room, where everyone had gone after dinner.

Dinner had been nervewracking. I'd avoided talking about myself as much as possible, still rather unfamiliar with the details of my back story, and just listened to everyone else catching up on gossip and discussing the details of their class schedules.

Luckily, as far as I could tell, my silence had been taken as mysterious rather than a sign of something suspicious. When, in response to a question about my reasons for coming to England, I'd just smiled, Malfoy had winked at me. My breath had caught in my throat for a moment, unused as I was to receiving this kind of attention from boys.

On the way to the common room, he'd walked behind me, and about halfway there I felt him lean towards me and whisper,

'You're very clever, aren't you? Don't worry, though. I like quiet, mysterious girls. It just makes it more of a challenge.'

He'd then swept ahead of me, before I'd even had time to react.

'I suppose you're our new room mate.'

Parkinson's voice brought me out of my reverie. She stepped to the side of the doorway, letting me enter. As I walked into the room, she steered me by the elbow and, in a low voice, introduced the other two girls in the room.

'This is Daphne Greengrass,' she said, gesturing towards a brunette girl, 'and this is Tracey David', waving towards a girl with honey coloured hair, who looked almost as nervous as I felt.

I walked in, immediately spotting my trunk lying by the bed closest to the window on the far side of the room. Though I was deliberately just looking at my own things as I unpacked the trunk, I could feel the stares of the three girls on me.

Trying not to fumble, I opened the trunk and looked at what was inside. Since I'd arrived at Hogwarts with no possessions, and nothing that I had owned in my previous life was suitable for a pureblood, Dumbledore had provided me with school supplies and a set of tailored robes, some tailored casual clothes as well as a dozen dresses that, although I didn't know where they were from, looked incredibly expensive.

I could hear the other girls in the room start to settle in, chatting about their families and where they had been over the summer. As Pansy launched into a story about her holiday in the Caribbean, involving a gorgeous wizard she'd met in a magical nightclub, I went to the bathroom and got ready for bed.

Coming back into the room, wearing a lace-and-silk nightgown like the one that I'd woken up in the day before, I tried to block out her incredibly graphic description of a night she'd spent with the wizard.

This was odd. I'd been told that pureblood society placed a high value on virginity at marriage, and strongly disapproved of any discussions of sex, but these girls seemed entirely comfortable talking about the men they'd met on holiday.

I got into bed, and, drawing the curtains around me, tried to figure out if I'd witnessed any other unexpected behaviour so far. If this piece of knowledge was wrong, I may have been misinformed on other issues. Who knew how many social faux pas I could have made already?


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes:**

 **Another chapter! Wow, I'm on a roll. And probably a terrible writer.**

 **I'll never know, though, will I, since no one ever leaves me reviews...**

 **(I whine, fully aware of the fact that I published this fic less than 24 hours ago. Shhh.)**

 **So far I have had around one and a half readers, or that's what this site tells me. The writing and the editing is probably sloppy. Feel free to shout about it.**

Chapter 3

 _Tuesday, 2nd September, probably-imaginary-wizard-school_

I woke up on the first day of school at 5:30 a.m. (according to the silver pocket watch I'd found in my suitcase), just as the sun was rising. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I drew one of my bed's curtains and, yawning, took the few paces that would bring me to the room's large window. It was quite chilly, even on this early September day, and the thick panes of glass were covered in a thin layer of frost, with condensation coating the inside. Outside, stretching out as far as I could see, were the sprawling grounds of the school.

I hadn't had a proper chance to explore or even look at the fields that surrounded the castle. I'd seen them from a window the other day, taking in with a glance the network of paths branching out from the castle to the lake and nearby forest, like veins from the heart, but had been rushed somewhere else before I see much else.

As the early morning sunlight illuminated its surface, the lake shone with an unearthly glow.

The grass, covered in dew, seemed to scatter little droplets of light onto its surroundings.

The grounds seemed deserted, except for a solitary figure on a broomstick, zig-zagging back and forth across the quidditch court, as if looking for something that was too small for me to see from here. I wonder who that was?

Glancing towards my still-sleeping roommates, I quietly shrugged on a dark woollen cloak that I'd been given, and, slipping my bare feet into a pair of boots, crept out of the room.

* * *

Walking up to the quidditch pitch, I saw the figure, still soaring above me on- was that really a broomstick? Oh god. I thought Dumbledore had been joking when he said that witches and wizards rode broomsticks. I should have known better by now, but it had just seemed like an absurd detail too far.

Whoever it was up there was wearing silver and green robes along with a matching scarf and robes were clearly different from the standard black uniform ones. Just as I was trying to figure out what that meant, the figure seemed to catch sight of me. Angling their broomstick, they plunged steeply down the sixty or so metres that separated them from the ground.

A couple of metres before they reached the ground, the person leapt off their broomstick, landing on both feet and holding onto the broom with one hand. The move was clearly practiced, and was also very, very cool.

As they walked the fifty or so metres that separated us, the figure became more recognisable. Clearly male, from the figure and gait and from the style of the short platinum blonde hair that they wore.

Tall, blonde, male, clad in Slytherin house colours. Wait.

Had I just followed Draco Malfoy out here?

Depending on how he took it, this was either an amazing tactical decision or an awful mistake on my part. I'd been told to befriend him as quickly and as closely as possible, in order to gather information, but I wasn't sure how he'd take my curiosity. After all, I couldn't say that I'd wanted to find out how someone was flying above these magical grounds, and what for. I was supposed to already know these things.

As he approached, stopping to stand about a metre away from me, he grinned. The grin caught me off guard, because it seemed far more genuine than anything I'd seen from my house-mates so far. Yesterday, Malfoy had smirked and smiled his way through dinner, but that was all clearly calculated in a way that this didn't seem to be.

Though I hadn't quite thought it as clearly, I'd begun to suspect that the Slytherins were somehow incapable of genuine joy and enthusiasm. Yet, here we stood, the sun streaming down through the trees behind the pitch, lighting up his hair and face from behind like a glowing halo, and I caught myself grinning back in the frosty air.

'So, Nagornichna. Quidditch enthusiast? Or just looking for me?'

I stared back for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Quidditch. I'd heard that word before. Wasn't it... wizard football or something?

He grinned even wider, clearly taking my silence for a sign of attraction, and liking it.

'Do I take it as the latter, then? Don't worry, I often have this effect on witches.'

Annoyance broke me out of my nervousness and uncertainty. Forgetting that I was meant to be playing the good heiress and getting as close as possible to this boy, I snapped back,

'You wish. I was just wondering who was enough of an idiot to be up this early. I guess you needed the Quidditch practice that badly, huh?'

As soon as the words left my mouth I was cursing myself for having a break in character this early, but to my surprise, Malfoy seemed to be more amused than angry.

'Feisty, aren't we?'

'Not especially,' I replied, trying to restore my previous reserved demeanour.

He glanced at me and chuckled, and I looked at him questioningly, unwilling to break the silence. He gave a smirk, the cruel, calculating edge returning to his behaviour.

'It takes some guts to accuse me of idiocy when you're the one out in your nightgown. '

I felt my cheeks heat up as I realised how stupid I'd been. I'd just gone out of the school in my nighty before six in the morning to shout at the boy whom I was supposed to be impressing.

Idiot.

I tried to think of an excuse to disappear before I could make even more of a fool of myself, but, before I could say anything, he spoke again;

'So, going back to my first question, are you a Quidditch enthusiast? It's just that I set a snitch loose, to practice my seeking skills, but I was distracted by some witch who appeared in her nightgown.'

He winked before continuing to speak,

'And my father will be _very_ annoyed if I lose the expensive snitch he just got me, so the least you could do would be to help me find it again.'

There was still an edge of annoyance in his words, but I also recognised this for what it really was. He was making the peace, and giving me a chance to redeem myself. Which is why it was especially unfortunate that I had never even been near a flying broomstick, let alone learnt how to fly or play 'Quidditch'.

Blushing again, I muttered, 'I was... never taught to fly. My guardians did not think it best.'

He stared for a moment, looking doubtful, then his expression cleared up again, and he offered me a shadow of the grin he'd first given me this morning.

'Alright. I'll teach you.'

And the calm mask slipped again.

'What?!'


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes:**

 **Hello! I apparently have a follower.**

 **Thank you, 'of bookworms and nerdiness'. You lovely person, you.**

 **That said, I just glanced back at my previous chapters and I hate them. Hopefully this is not true of everyone, but I am trying very hard to get better at this whole writing business. (More difficult than I had realized- no more will I be so annoyed at the writers of poor quality fanfiction.)**

 **Please, please, if you read this, review. Like it, hate it, left cold by the whole thing- please tell me!**

 **Also- I've ended up re-writing bits of this chapter and I'm not sure if the flow / direction of the whole thing remains clear. If it is unreadable, I apologise and will probably edit when more wide awake.**

 **(I'll update when I can- hopefully fairly often, but I have a lot of schoolwork at the moment. So, we shall see.)**

Chapter 4

 _Five fucking seconds later, Quidditch Pitch_

'Not now, Nagornichna. That would be _absurd._ Some other day, when we both have time. A young society witch can't graduate from Hogwarts unable to fly, can she?'

Was this a joke?

If there'd been anyone else around I'd have assumed he was taking the piss.

If this was the real me, in real life, surrounded by real … humans.

This couldn't be real. These kind of things didn't happen. Not in real life, not to me.

And yet-

Flying lessons. With Draco Malfoy.

As I looked at him again, trying to understand, to find some clue in his appearance- the relaxed way that he was standing, the smile gracing his features, it dawned on me that the Draco Malfoy standing in front of me was a very different person from the one I'd met the night before.

And... he really was _exceedingly_ good looking.

My gaze alighted on his face, seeing him changed in the light of the rising sun, which shone brightly now.

The fair skin that I'd dismissed before as pallid and dull now glowed with colour.

From the flying, and the cold, and the wind and.. maybe...

It looked like he was blushing.

I took in the shade- a kind of delicate, almost pastel, pink, and realised that he had incredible skin. Clear, smooth and in places so pale as to be almost translucent. Porcelain is a description often used in books, but I'd never really appreciated the meaning until now.

Wait. Not the time to be dazzled. Focus on the situation at hand. Response. To Malfoy.

Who is... waiting for a response. From me.

Ah - the offer of flying lessons. Could it really be in earnest?

He was grinning, still, and it seemed easiest to take this for a gesture of simple friendliness.

That said, I hesitated to dismiss it as such.

I could feel something hanging in the air between us, the slightest, most fragile tension, hinting at something more than friendship and jokes between acquaintances.

Was he teasing me? Flirting? How was I supposed to react?

It dawned on me that while I'd readied myself for tests of my knowledge, for manipulation and intimidation and suspicion, I was completely unready for … friendliness. Flirting.

I knew how pureblood witches and wizards behaved in polite society, but I had no idea how they acted around their friends.

As it was, I avoided his gaze and tried to gather my thoughts, feeling suddenly, unexpectedly shy.

From the corner of my eye I caught sight of his right hand. Covered in a green and silver quidditch glove, it fluttered, outstretched slightly towards me. Was he even aware of it? His hand, held towards-

Silver and green.

Slytherin colours.

Slytherins. Evil. Bad, manipulative.

Tread carefully.

'No. How charitable of you to offer. Haven't you got a snitch to catch though? It would be such a shame if you lost it.'

I watched his expression light up at my tone, then fall slightly as he registered the rejection and my snark.

'Quite right. I'll go do that, and I'd suggest that in the meantime you change into something more presentable. The professors are not quite as understanding as I am when it comes to dress code violations.'

With those words he flew off, and I stood silent for a moment, unable to come up with a suitable comeback. Not wanting him to see me gawping there, I turned and stormed back into the castle.

If he thought that he'd gotten the last word, he was wrong.

This would not be the end of it.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes:**

 **Hey! Look! A new chapter! (Sorry.)**

 **As always, I have a lot of doubt in my own editing abilities (especially as I'm in a hurry and more than a little sleep deprived right now). I also don't like this chapter much- not particularly comfortable with writing the corridor / class transitions. That said, setting up situations is, as far as I can tell, a necessary evil.**

 **Next chapter is when things should start getting a little more fun / interesting.**

 **Reviews please, if you care. Or if you don't. Or something.**

Chapter 5

'Apparently my first class is … Potions.'

I tried not to sound too doubtful as I scanned the timetable in my hands. Though I'd of course known in advance the classes I'd be taking, the idea of attending a 'Potions' lesson was still rather surreal.

'Oh! That's my first class too!'

Tracey and I stood facing each other in the common-room, caught in the crush of new and returning students on their first day of school.

At a normal school, and perhaps in a different Hogwarts house, the room would have been full of students hugging and laughing and talking loudly. As it was, the Slytherins were all shaking hands and making polite conversation.

While at first I'd thought that they were just greeting their friends (albeit in a rather formal manner), there was a clear hierarchy within the group of students that seemed to dictate the friendship groups and the behaviour of each student towards the others.

Tracey seemed to have relaxed a bit since yesterday evening, but her posture still held a tightness that betrayed fear. As the common-room grew more and more crowded, her foot drummed at an ever-increasing pace. The look on her face was not one of panic, exactly, but a kind of nervous anticipation, as if she expected someone to come and shout at her any minute.

'Come on, I'll show you the way.'

We worked our way out of the common room, having to weave through the crowd of students still waiting to receive their timetables.

A few meters from the door, I thought that I spotted a flash of blonde hair from across the room, but when I turned to look, it was gone.

'Who are you looking for?'

Tracey's words snapped me back into reality, and I reminded myself that I wasn't interested in Draco Malfoy. He was my target, and one of the bad people. I was working for the good side, spying on him. Nothing more.

'No one.'

I followed Tracey out of the common room door, heading to the right down one of the long corridors that formed the backbone of the school.

I'd been here for several days already, but wasn't even beginning to come to grips with the size and the geography of the castle. While there were several main hallways I recognized, that led to the most important areas of the school (such as the Great Hall, Library, and the entrance), the smaller corridors leading off from them, that in turn sparked off dozens of tiny, hidden, winding passageways seemed near-infinite in number and impossible to navigate and remember.

As we walked, I tried to think of something to say, unsure of how I should act towards this girl,

'So... are you any good at potions?'

Tracey immediately looked panicked, and I regretted saying anything. She moved closer to me as we walked. Despite it being morning, the corridor we walked along was dark, the walls covered in gruesome tapestries which seemed to move in the flickering light of the kerosene lamps. I suppressed a shiver, and Tracey replied in a low voice,

'Not really. But it's not that bad. Professor Snape can be kind of scary, but he's really nice to us Slytherins. My mother says that if it was any other Professor I would be failing that class.'

She frowned, seemingly at herself.

'Um, please don't tell anyone that I said that.'

I guessed that betraying details of familial disputes could get Slytherins in a lot of trouble. The fact that she'd said that so unthinkingly, though, suggested that Tracey might be an excellent source of information if I could gain her trust.

So I flashed her a smile, and replied

'I won't. It's nice to find someone I can talk to about these things.'

She immediately looked relieved, and we walked the rest of the way to the class. As we walked, she told me about what they'd done in potions the previous year and what she thought we'd be doing this lesson.

While all the names of potions and ingredients sounded like a cross between my grandmother's herb garden and made-up story book jargon ('wolfsbane' 'hellbore' 'bezoar'- all interchangeable fairy tale names as far as I was concerned), I'd been told by Dumbledore that the subject was similar to Chemistry, but with more of a focus on being able to combine ingredients and create a finished product than understanding the complex theories behind the way that potion-making worked.

When we arrived at the right classroom in the gloomy dungeons, my eyes were immediately drawn to a certain blonde haired boy standing at by the classroom door.

It didn't _seem_ like he'd been waiting for me, but as soon as I got there, he stopped talking to Zabini and walked up to me.

'Looks like we have potions with the _Gryffindors,_ '

He screwed his face up into an exaggerated expression of disgust, then continued,

'At least it's with a decent Professor, though.'

I nodded, resolving to try and learn more about Malfoy in order to make up some of the ground I had lost earlier.

Well, I was meant to be new, and foreign, so

'You... dislike the Gryffindors then?' I asked, feigning innocence.

'Obviously. How can you not know that?'

I smiled sweetly.

'My tutors in Russia did not teach me this, somehow.'

He nodded, looking at me with an expression approaching disappointment.

'Right, Russian. Of course. How is it that you have such good English, then? And no accent?'

He threw me a grin, obviously trying to re-establish the friendly rapport we'd had this morning,

'It's almost like you're not Russian at all.'

I maintained a neutral expression, remembering what Dumbledore had said when I'd pointed out this obvious flaw in my back story.

'I had lessons taught to me in English. My guardians wished for me to speak the language well.'

A bell rang, and the crowd that had gathered outside of the classroom (talking amongst themselves, but with frequent stares still aimed at me) filed in to the dark dungeon room, which contained several rows of two-person desks, many of them covered in burns or unpleasant looking stains. One desk at the front of the room seemed to have had a hole eaten straight through it by some substance.

Potions was clearly not a subject to treat lightly, and I would have been more afraid were it not for the more pressing issue at hand.

Two person desks. And I bet I knew who would-

'Nagornichna. Care to sit with me?'

Of course. Draco-fucking-Malfoy. The boy that I was meant to be spying on was still busy trying to figure me out.

'Thank you.'

We sat near the back, and I pulled my textbook, parchment and quill out of my bag, waiting for the inevitable question. I had an answer ready, but what if when asked to demonstrate, I couldn't?

Before I'd gotten to Hogwarts I'd only ever done it by accident, in fits of emotion as an involuntary response. I'd begun learning to channel it over the past few days, but my performance was generally mediocre and the attempts often failed.

When I'd spoken to Dumbledore about my worries, he'd said something to the effect of that the pressure of demonstrating in front of people would help me succeed.

The bastard.

Speaking of bastards, the one sitting next to me got out his textbook, parchment, quill and wand, and, surveying my desk, frowned.

Okay. Three... two …. one... and-

'You'll need your wand for this class.'

Deep breath.

'I don't need one.'

A raised eyebrow.

'Yes. You do.'

'I can cast spells without it.'

'You can do wandless magic?'

'It's a family thing.'

Now it was his turn to lose composure. Finally.

'Really?'

His eyes stretched wide.

In that moment the lantern hanging above us swayed, and its light shifted to illuminate Mafoy's eyes, forehead and hair, giving the top half of his face a glow that served to emphasise his almost comical expression of surprise. I would have laughed if I wasn't so nervous. I felt my stomach shift at the prospect of what I'd have to do next, and silently pleaded my body not to make me sick with nerves.

Whatever he'd expected of me, this wasn't it. I'd been told by Dumbledore that wandless magic is very difficult, and that at my age the vast majority of witches and wizards could only channel magic with the help of a wand (which served as a kind of conduit and magnifier for power).

I'm not sure what it is that made me different in this respect, but in this moment it didn't really matter.

Wanting to say something but feeling lost for words, I noticed that Malfoy's eyes seemed to be the same shade of silver-grey as my hair. The colour shifted constantly in the light.

Frozen, wide-eyed with surprise - in that moment he looked vulnerable and boyish in a way he hadn't even this morning.

And... I liked it.

The words slipped into my thoughts almost involuntarily.

Before I could think properly about this worrying development, the atmosphere in the classroom shifted, every student growing silent as a tall man with lank black hair and cold, glassy eyes stalked into the room with the manner of an angry predator.

'You're back,' he half-sneered.

'What a disappointment.'

No one seemed to be surprised by this greeting, the whole class waiting mutely as he flicked a wand at the board, where a complicated set of instructions appeared.

'Today you will be making the Draught of Living Death. This is a very complicated and delicate potion, so I expect that all the incompetent idiots who have been allowed into my class for yet another year will prepare it incorrectly,'

He grimaced,

'The Draught of Living Death must be prepared in a precise and skilled manner. If even a single ingredient is missed or step performed incorrectly, the potion becomes a fatal poison. Perhaps those who make mistakes will have to drink what they create.'

With these words he sat down at his desk, and glared at the class expectantly, seeming to look with especial loathing at the Gryffindor students, who numbered significantly fewer than the Slytherins.

Malfoy got up and, placing a cauldron on the desk, said

'I'll go and get the ingredients. Do you mind lighting the fire?'

He then stood and stared with obvious curiosity, clearly waiting for me to demonstrate my magic,

Uttering a silent prayer for success to any deity that might have been listening, I stood up. As I drew in a sharp breath I could feel my chest tighten with anxiety.

I moved my right palm to lie flat, shaking, about half a foot above the metal ring embedded into the desk.

Closing my eyes and focussing, I willed a fire to spring up, almost entirely convinced that it wouldn't work.

I'd only cast this spell successfully once before.

After a moment's excruciating stillness and concentration, I felt a ripple of magical energy travel through my palm. Flames sprung into life and my body flooded with relief.

Tense muscles slackening, I felt my the corners of my mouth rise in a smile. Even aside from proving a point to Malfoy, I was just happy to be doing magic. There's a kind of childish delight to be found in spellcasting- I made fire! Out of nothing! It's ... fun. Joyful.

It was all I could do not to laugh in sheer relief and happiness at the simple little spell I'd just performed, something that every Hogwarts student would have known from their second year onwards.

Looking up at Malfoy with barely-disguised smugness, I realized that he was no longer the only student staring at me in shock.

My classmates, already curious about me, seemed taken aback by my spellcasting, many regarding me with what looked like fear and admiration.

Zabini, the other Slytherin boy in this class (which numbered only ten people, most of them Slytherin girls) whistled appreciatively, at which Draco seemed to stiffen by my side.

Blaise Zabini, taking no notice, gave me a long appraising look.

'Well, aren't you something else.'


	7. Chapter 6

**Hi!**

 **I've been busy. I wanted to post an update, and I think / hope that this one's alright but I didn't take as much time over the editing as I should have.**

 **1000x thanks to TheSuprisedSlytherin for their review and favourite (and to the other couple of reviewers that I've had!).**

 **This chapter: the first in a series of odd / interesting developments. Hopefully good, or at least readable.**

 **I can feel myself falling into cliches at times, which is unfortunate. (I guess I'm just in the process of developing as a *writer*.)**

 **I think I'll be able to avoid the worst of them though- as in, hate-turns-to-love-turns-to-OTP-fucking-in-a-broomcloset. And, as of yet, Sophia (OC) hasn't become super hot and irresistible, _or_ started shopping exclusively at Hot Topic while listening to mid-2000s pop-punk.**

 ** _Congratulations to me._**

 **If you like it or hate it or think that the story is incredibly boring but had nothing better to do than read it, please review. I want to know what people think :)**

 **(Guest reviewing is enabled- _you don't even have to log in. (You're welcome.)_ )**

Chapter 6

The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence as Draco and I chopped and stirred ingredients, too focused on the success of the potion to talk much. There were several moments when I thought I saw him look towards me and take a deep breath, as if about to speak, but each time I looked up he was engrossed in potion-making.

I had two other lessons that morning; Transfiguration and History of Magic.

History of Magic was one of the most singularly dull classes I have ever had the misfortune of attending. I'd wanted to pay full attention to every subject I was taking (this was, after all, magic school- most likely more useful than A-levels) but after enduring just ten minutes of the Professor's drone I turned my attention away from the goblin wars of the fifth century to focus on what to me was a more pressing concern. The teacher boring me out of my mind was a translucent figure that emitted a silvery-blue light.

I turned to the girl next to me, a tall Ravenclaw with round, thin-framed glasses and an extraordinarily loud voice, wanting to ask if Professor Binns was a ghost, but remembered that this was probably yet another thing I was expected to know. Along with an entire lifetime's worth of knowledge about the wizarding world. I kept quiet, vowing to read 'Hogwarts a History' (one of the books Professor Dumbledore had given me) when I had the time.

Transfiguration, one of the subjects I'd been most excited about studying, was uneventful- we had a lecture on theory, the seriousness of our upcoming exams, and the enormous amount of work that was required to achieve a good grade in transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall seemed to be deliberately avoiding my gaze.

Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw boy that I shared a desk with, spent the entire lesson stealing little glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. Along with the rest of the school, really.

I was meant to have lunch after that, but the morning had been confusing and exhausting enough that I couldn't face another hour of keeping up my act. Wondering how on earth I was going to survive an entire year of this, I slipped away from the crowds of students walking to the Great Hall and made my way back to the Slytherin dungeons.

I walked into the dungeons, ready to shrug off my heavy bag and attempt once again to make some sense of the past week. Making my way up the stairs, I was gratified to finally have some time to myself. Everyone else was off having lunch in the hall, and no one else would be stupid enough to skip lunch for the sake of avoiding their peers.

No one except Pansy, it seemed.

She was sitting on her bed, and when I entered gave a slow, satisfied smile, as if she'd been expecting to see me.

'So. Nagornichna. Tracey told me about your little show in Potions. The whole school's buzzing about it, really.'

She paused, and, giving me another look, nodded to herself.

'It seems that you're more interesting than we'd given you credit for.'

I heard someone enter the room behind me, and turned around to see Daphne standing in the doorway.

'Daphne, Tracey and I think that you could be a useful friend and ally. We'd like to invite you to join our society.'

Daphne nodded.

'Society?'

Daphne smiled and said quietly, but with a sense of significance, 'The Slytherin Society for Exceptional Young Witches.'

'I haven't heard of it.'

Pansy rolled her eyes.

'That's because it's a secret society. I'm the President and Daphne and Tracey are the other members.'

She paused, then launched into what seemed like a prepared speech.

'The way we see it is, we're the cream of wizarding society. We have everything needed for success; intelligence, good looks, rich parents and ruthless ambition. Yet somehow, everyone expects us to get married off and be good little society wives.'

'But we've all got bigger plans,' chimed in Daphne, right on cue, 'So we've vowed to help each other achieve our greatest dreams and ambitions. Together, nothing can hold us back. Not our families, and especially not men.'

'Of course, all of this is secret,' continued Pansy, 'If anyone found us out we'd be sent home or separated at once. Which is why, if you won't join us, we'll be forced to obliviate you.'

Now that I looked, Daphne wasn't just standing by the doorway, she was blocking it.

I felt my throat tighten and my heartbeat rise to a loud pounding in my ears.

Swallowing my fear, I reminded myself that this could actually be exceptionally useful.

After all, I was going to live as Sophia Nagornichna for the rest of my life, and it couldn't hurt to have some of the most powerful pureblood heiresses on my side.

This would also be the perfect opportunity to gather information on the Slytherins for Dumbledore, as I'd been asked to.

'I'd be honoured to join.'

Pansy's beautiful face broke into a satisfied smile, which held more than a hint of smugness.

Her red eyeshadow, which this morning had seemed to smack of restrained elegance, on second glance seemed transformed into something more unruly.

As this girl lounged on her bed in an elegant sprawl of slim limbs, practically purring in satisfaction, her alluring face, framed by a flare of silky black hair, seemed more fox than faery.

I glanced back at Daphne and saw that the girl's previously rigid stance had relaxed. She met my eyes, and walked slowly to stand in front of me.

Pursing her lips, she paused, as if wanting to say something then thinking better of it.

An odd pressure seemed to hum through the room, making the air heavy. I took a breath, suddenly hyper-aware of every part of my body; the way that my arms hung loose by my sides, my knees, one bent in an already habitual effort to make myself look less tall. The way that the air rushed past my lips, cool and feathery, to settle like lead in my lungs.

She looked intently at me, and I was conscious of my own stare in return. Then-

The moment broke.

'Pans, when's Tracy getting here? She's ten minutes late.'

Pansy lay staring at the ceiling above her, as if in contemplation, still frozen in a position that looked random, but I was beginning to suspect was calculated to look a certain way.

Nothing about this girl was accidental.

'Patience, Daphne.'

Daphne rolled her eyes and frowned in an obvious show of annoyance, muttering 'The little idiot. Don't see why we even invited her.'

Pansy didn't seem to hear this comment, and continued to lie immobile, as if cut from marble.

I shifted on my feet, unsure of what I was expected to do. Just as I was about to blurt out some excuse to leave, I heard rapid footsteps enter the room, and Tracey enter the room, practically squealing, a whirlwind of aureate hair and child-like energy.

'Did she say yes? Oh my God, she did, didn't she? I'm so excited!'

After this rapid fire chatter, a tense silence seemed to spread through the room as Pansy took no notice, and Daphne sighed, remarking

'Very clever, Tracey. What if she had said no? You would have just made a huge fucking slip, and we'd have to obliviate her again.'

I watched Tracey's shoulders droop.

'Sorry. I was just excited. And I got carried away,' she said, flatly, before turning back to me, and continuing with barely clearly suppressed glee, 'but you said yes, didn't you! This is great! I was _so_ worried that you'd say no, and then it would just be awkward.'

I smiled weakly at her, unsure of whether I was supposed to entertain her enthusiasm.

Daphne and Tracey both turned to look at Pansy, as she shifted slowly, sitting up to face us.

'This is Sophia's first meeting, so I'll have to go over a few points of procedure.'

'Meetings,' she continued, turning to me, 'take place on Tuesday afternoons, like today, for up to half an hour after lunch. All of us have a free period at this time. Tracey checked your timetable. We discuss any plans or concerns that we have, and what action needs to be taken either within or outside of the school. Does anyone have any topics to raise?'

Daphne nodded, taking on a look of grave seriousness.

'Daphne, you may speak.'

'I think I've discovered the perfect opportunity for revenge on Zabini. I heard-'

Pansy raised one elegant finger, the nail painted a dark red, and Daphne immediately grew silent.

'If you could allow me to explain to our newest member the issue with Zabini.'

Daphne nodded assent.

Pansy leaned slightly towards me, the only one sitting while the rest of us stood, awkward.

'Last year, Daphne was, shall we say... fond of Blaise Zabini,'

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Daphne blush and look down.

'They were an item, until he broke up with her for the trashy and far inferior Felicity Runcorn. This was clearly an unacceptable offence, and since that time we have been looking for a way to punish him.'

I tried not to make a face at the word punish, thinking to myself that this was a little over the top. These girls seemed to be a group of friends, but Pansy was lording over them, and, rather than giving me any significant information, they were just discussing petty revenge schemes.

'Daphne, you may continue.'

'I overheard Zabini talking to his friends after potions, about Sophia. He seems to be interested in her. I think that she should feign interest in him, then humiliate him and break his heart. It could be her initiation task.'

Daphne spoke in a casual tone, as if discussing dinner plans rather than some mad scheme for retribution.

I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to do this. It was foolish and spiteful and - I had no choice.

I stayed silent, unable to express my aversion towards her idea, but unwilling to voice any kind of support.

Tracey stared at her, wide-eyed. Looking incredibly uncomfortable, she blurted out

'That's mean.'

Daphne stared daggers back at her, eyes narrowed, and said

'He deserves it.'

Tracey, looking like she regretted ever speaking up, took a shaky breath and continued,

'But. He's nice. He always helps me with my potions homework.'

Tense silence.

'He dumped me for that slut. Do you call that nice?'

'N-no.'

Pansy stretched, seemingly unaffected by this argument. After a moment's pause, she turned to look at me.

'So, new girl. Will you do it?'

This did seem petty, and mean.

While I didn't know Zabini, I also had nothing against him, and wasn't particularly fond of hurting and manipulating people.

'Do I have to?'

The words came out sounding more whiny than they had in my head, and I tried not to look nervous as I waited for a reply.

'It's your initiation task. Either you do it, or you forget that this ever happened.'

If they delved into my mind to alter my memories, there was a chance that they might see some other memories.

Reluctant as I was to do this, I couldn't afford to have my cover blown.

'I'll do it.'

Tracey gave me a worried look. Daphne, standing on my other side, turned to me with a smile. She moved closer to me, and, nodding, said 'I knew you'd make the right decision.'

Pansy yawned, as if in boredom, and got up to pick up her school bag, which was an ornate satchel of what looked like something between crocodile and lizard skin.

She walked towards the door, saying in parting,

'I have charms in half an hour, and I need to talk to Draco first. Daphne, I trust you'll take care of things.'

Daphne nodded, and looked at me. As she gave me a look of scrutiny, closer than that which I had become accustomed to getting from my classmates, I fought the urge to turn away, or cover my face. She reached out, as if about to touch my face, then dropped her hand back to her side.

'Right,' she said softly, ' let's talk tactics.'


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes:**

 **Sorry that this has taken me so long to post. I've been incredibly busy. I have holidays in a week, so I should hopefully get more writing and editing done then.**

 **I hope you like / don't hate this.**

 **If you like, hate, whatever, please review. It would make me feel as though people actually care about what I'm writing, which in turn would get me to write more. So, everyone's happy. I hope.**

 **I recently had to write and re-write a Personal Statement (uni applications...), so I'm a little out of the habit of using contractions in my writing. Ah well.**

Chapter Seven

 _Saturday 6th September, 7th Year Girl's Dormitories. Surrounded by mad people._

I woke, blinking sleep out of my eyes. For yet another morning, Hogwarts had failed to dissolve like the dream I was becoming rapidly less certain that it was.

Up until now I hadn't quite believed any of this, in the same way that I hadn't quite grasped what happened before.

My parents, the attack, all of it. Explosions of light and sound. Police sirens. The people- my parents. Lying there. Just... not moving. I was too afraid to look. I'd stood in a daze, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening, but unable to understand. All signs pointed to... them. Dead. Just... lying there. But how?

None of it made sense.

People, with sticks. Wands?

Shouting. The moment the people had appeared, I'd seen my mother's face. She hadn't looked surprised. The word that sprung to mind was... resigned, almost.

Screaming. Threats, as well as something else I didn't understand. Mentions of the past.

My father, red-faced, shrieking about promises broken.

No one noticed me. No one seemed to see me. I might as well have not been there.

Light. Green light. Too bright to look at.

I was too afraid to look.

When Professor Dumbledore appeared, I had been ready to follow anyone, anything that made some sense. The things that he said were so strange, so unreal, that I felt like I'd stepped into some alternate reality.

That morning I'd been a normal girl with two parents. I'd been worrying about my AS-levels. In the space of about ten minutes, my entire life had been transformed.

It was all so strange and overwhelming, that it seemed to barely affect me at all. I couldn't even be sad or surprised by what had happened because it was all so blatantly impossible.

Now, although the shock and grief I was constantly expecting had failed to manifest, it was beginning to set in that this might be for real. I was stuck in this place, this body. Mirrors still took me by surprise, with the flash of silver hair instead of brown, but I was already getting used to the name.

From the way that the pale, watery light fell across the room I could tell that I'd woken up too early again.

I lay motionless for a moment, wishing that I could return to the luxurious lack of thought I'd been drifting in a second before.

Sighing, I resigning myself to wakefulness. It had become clear that I couldn't just turn over and go back to sleep the way at Hogwarts the way that I would have at home. Every time I woke up in these unfamiliar surroundings there was just too much to think and worry about.

Getting up, I felt my face stretch in an involuntary yawn. I glanced out of the window again. The glass was clear today, since it was a little warmer than the day before, though I could still feel the chill breeze where it crept through the cracks around the windowpane. Shivering, I made to turn away and get back into bed , when something caught my eye.

From my window, I could see a certain boy darting around in the air above the Quidditch pitch, as he had been every morning this week. I laughed, wondering at his dedication to a sport I'd only recently found out existed. My laughter echoed around the stone walls of the dormitory, startlingly loud in the early morning silence, and Pansy seemed to shift in the bed nearest to mine.

Not wanting to deal with her if she woke up, I grabbed a pair of black trousers and the first shirt that I could find.

Whipping off my nightgown, I shivered in the cold morning air. As I dressed, every rustle of material seemed impossibly loud, an unwelcome intrusion upon the rare silence that had taken hold of the room. The bell sleeves of the shirt fell soft and drifting about my wrists, twin waves of snowy-coloured rippling silk. The shirt was beautiful, but entirely inadequate in this cold.

I grabbed a woollen cloak, a pair of gloves, and, slipping on a pair of sturdy ankle boots, crept out of the dormitory.

The corridors of the castle were deserted at this time of the morning, and my boot-steps rang loud on the flagstones. Walking up to the doors of the castle, the ghost of a woman, radiating a silvery-blue light, smiled at me as she drifted past.

There was something almost painfully beautiful about the castle in the early morning. The slightest, most ordinary things- dust motes drifting in the pale light-

I felt my chest tighten with an ache of longing for something I did not quite understand.

The residents of the portraits and tapestries were subdued, unmoving, except for the slightest, near-imperceptible shifts in sleep.

Reaching the door of the castle, I looked out onto the misty fields that lay ahead of me. Another pang of longing struck, unexpected. I wanted... I wanted to stay here. I wanted to have been here, since I was eleven, to fit in among the other students, to know my way around the castle and its grounds.

The past week of school had been full of fear and nervousness, but, in the rare moments I had alone and could let down my guard, I'd felt something other than fear and confusion. A sense of … homecoming, almost.

When I'd lived at home, back in the real world, I'd never really felt like I belonged.

I suppose every teenager feels that way, but I'd always dreamed of running away, of being taken out of my dull everyday life by some mysterious stranger. Most of us think that we're destined for greater things than those around us, but, somehow, by some bizarre set of circumstances, some... miracle... I had been right.

I stepped out onto the dewy grass of the school fields, and saw the same figure darting around above and far ahead of me. The sense of longing quickly dissipated as my mind shifted gear. For all my dreaming, I hadn't come home. I was far away from home, and on a mission. Maybe some time in the future I could puzzle this out; begin to understand who I was and where I really belonged, but for now my focus had to be on Draco Malfoy.

Did I really want to see him?

I had avoided talking to him since the first day of school, fearful of letting down my guard. His presence affected me more than I liked to admit. He was disarming, in a way that thrilled and worried me in equal measure. I needed to get closer to him, to find things out, but somehow avoid becoming attached or vulnerable in the process.

I had the strong feeling that while he might have been perfectly friendly towards me so far, he wouldn't take that well to finding out that I had been lying about my identity in order to spy on him and his friends.

Unsure of what to do, I'd resorted to that tried and true method of dealing with problems. Avoiding them.

I was sorely tempted to just walk back into the castle before he noticed me, but I had a meeting with Dumbledore the next day. I needed something to report.

Taking a deep breath, and, feeling sure that this was a mistake, I ran the rest of the way to the pitch.

As I darted on to the perfectly cut grass, I saw him flying in a way that seemed impossibly fast. He made a few circuits of the pitch before I saw him notice me. Seeing him spot me, and turn to approach the place that I was standing, I felt a wave of excitement bubble up in my chest.

Leaning down for the descent, he waved. Impulsively, I blew a kiss in return; an exaggerated gesture of affection.

Two could play at this game.

This time, he landed only a couple of feet in front of me, executing the same mid-air jump as before. Landing perfectly again, he looked very pleased with himself.

'Very nice,' I teased, 'now, how many times did you have to practice that move before you stopped falling over?'

He blushed, looking taken aback.

'No, really, it's very good,' I continued, trying my luck, 'that must impress all the girls.'

He laughed, and swept his hair out of his eyes (a self-conscious gesture, I'd noticed).

I fought to keep my distance emotionally, reminding myself that just because he looked so … nice, standing there smiling in the sunlight, didn't mean that I shouldn't be incredibly careful around him.

'I'll have you know that it does,' he said, 'and judging by your appearance here, it's worked on you.'

Ouch. Well,

'Can't a girl take an early morning walk? It's not my fault that you're always here, is it?'

'Right,' he drawled, drawing out the word, before continuing,

'It's nice to see you, though. I thought you were ignoring me,'

I shifted.

'It's been a busy week.'

That unspoken thing I'd felt before, hanging in the air, seemed to appear again. This... tension, whatever it as, was almost palpable and I could have sworn that the air got fractionally thicker, harder to breathe.

I felt suddenly shy, scared to move or speak too suddenly, in case it broke whatever drifted here between us.

Which- shouldn't matter. Because it would never happen.

Draco Malfoy, I reminded myself, wasn't really interested in me. He was interested in Sophia Nagornichna, pureblood heiress, who I was only pretending to be.

He smiled, and said, voice seeming to shake a little,

'Well, I missed you.'

I smiled back, silent.

Trying to lighten the atmosphere, I changed subject,

'Well, you did promise to teach me Quidditch.'

'That I did. In fact-'

He hesitated.

'How does next Saturday sound to you? It's a Hogsmeade weekend, but we could go in the afternoon.'

Shit. The Hogsmeade weekend. I was meant to be getting Zabini to ask me. Daphne had planned the whole thing, starting with this afternoon.

'I think I might have plans. Sorry.'

His face fell for a minute, then he gave a forced-looking smile,

'That's alright. Some other time, maybe?'

'Sure.'

We both stood there, unsure of what to say. After about a minute in uncomfortable silence, unable to stand it anymore, I blurted,

'I should probably get back. Have a nice weekend.'

before turning to walk back towards the castle, cursing myself internally. Have a nice weekend?

What the fuck was that?

'You too.' came the voice from behind me, and I almost looked back.


	9. Chapter 8

**Hey. Another update.**

 **Working on the direction of later chapters (I'll probably go back and edit some of the earlier stuff to make it more cohesive).**

 **I am, as always, uber busy, so the editing may be a little less than top-notch. As I said last update, I've got holidays coming up, which should hopefully mean more chapters (and better editing).**

 **Oh, also, I love writing this story.**

 **It does, however, make me worry near-constantly that I will send a teacher (or university) a badly written chapter of fanfic instead of an essay / Personal Statement. That would make a hell of an impression.**

 **As always, reviewssss. Please. (I am very much open to criticism! Flame me, for all I care.)**

Chapter 8

 _The Afternoon_

'This make-up is making my face feel heavy..'

'Trust me, he'll like it.'

'And this bra makes my chest look strange.'

'It makes it look bigger. That's the point.'

'Daphne, can't I just...'

'This is your initiation. Take it or leave it.'

'Fine.'

A pause, followed by a whisper.

'Ok, go.'

I felt her push me towards the stairs and wished once again that I hadn't agreed to this. I walked into the common-room.

Daphne, it turned out, was not only unable to handle rejection, but also a control freak. She'd planned every last detail of this.

Walking towards the armchairs, I went over my lines once again.

Just as she had said, Zabini was sitting in an armchair by the fire. There were papers scattered on the table in front of him, and as I approached I saw him repeatedly writing something before crossing it out and frowning.

I held my schoolbag in my right hand, and I tossed it to the floor before curling up on the armchair across from him. He looked up, startled at the sound, and seemed surprised to see me.

'Hello,' he ventured, 'Nagornichna, isn't it?'

Feeling like a fool, I smiled sweetly, offering a silent prayer of gratitude to any deity listening for the fact that no one else was in the room.

'You can call me Sophia, if you like.'

I put on the silky, breathy voice that Daphne had made me practice.

She'd informed me in matter-of-fact terms that Blaise was a known ladykiller, and would probably make a move as soon as I spoke to him.

As promised, he immediately slipped into a more confident manner, leaning across the small table towards me, and spoke, much to my amusement, in a voice slightly deeper than it had been before,

'Sorry,' he continued, making eye contact, 'I was just a little surprised to see you here. Too busy with my potions essay.'

He made a face.

'I can't remember the five uses of wolfsbane.'

'Neither can I!', I said, acting as if Daphne hadn't predicted this as a potential response, 'Maybe we could work on our essays together.'

From the corner of my eye, I saw Malfoy enter the common room, and walk towards where we were sitting. Reminding myself that I didn't care about him, I turned to look at Zabini.

Slipping briefly out of character, I allowed myself a moment of scrutiny.

What was it about this boy? Why did Daphne want him so much?

He was ... handsome. Classically beautiful. Chiseled cheekbones and golden brown eyes, set perfectly against an olive complexion.

He caught my stare, and smiled, clearly taking it as a compliment.

He smiled, and I felt nothing at all. Odd.

I swung my legs off the chair and leaned towards Zabini.

'So, Sophia. What's a Russian girl doing at Hogwarts?'

I giggled, wanting to cringe at the pathetic sound. Surely he'd see through me at any minute.

Looking up from under my eyelashes, I made my usual reply.

'Oh it's a long story,' I said.

After a brief moment of panic, I remembered one of the conversational tactics Daphne had given me.

'It's so embarrassing to be joining this late. I don't know even the most basic things about the houses, or what people do on weekends.'

Deep breath. Shy smile. Breathy, girlish voice.

'I don't even know how to get to Hogsmeade or the best places to go there.'

I paused, hoping that he'd take the bait.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had come closer and was standing nearby, frozen in a look of disbelief.

'Well, if you like, I could show you around next weekend.'

Hook, line and sinker.

'That would be great!'

Smile, smile, make an exit.

'I think I said I'd help Tracey with her charms homework.'

Pick up the bag, walk away from the armchairs, past the boy trying not to look hurt, up the stairs.

Done.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes:**

 **These past couple of chapters have been pretty short- sorry. The next one's a bit longer, as you'll see when I get round to uploading it.**

 **I think I know now where the story is headed. I did some writing on it today, but I really ought to focus on my work. (As always.)**

 **As I say every single time, reviews are the stuff of dreams. (Before I started publishing on this site, I never understood why some authors are / were so desperate for reviews. Suffice to say, I know now.)**

 **Feel free to tell me where you think the story is / should be going. I'm curious. :)**

Chapter 9

 _Sunday 7th September, The Headmaster's Office_

'Have you found out anything pertaining to death eater activity within the school?'

'No.'

'How about gaining the confidence of the students we discussed?'

'I'm getting there.'

'Very good. Please do inform me if you discover any relevant information.'

'I will endeavour to do so.'

* * *

 _Friday 12th September, Seventh Year Girl's Dormitories_

'I think we'll break it off after... twelve dates? Give him time to get attached, you know?'

This was insane.

'Ok.'

'Right. Pansy and I are spending the weekend at my parent's estate,' continued Daphne, clearly pleased at this fact. She then went on to give me a vicious look.

'Don't fuck it up, Nagornichna.'

With those parting words, uttered in a tone of utter derision, she swished out of the dormitory in a cloud of expensive silk (a dress just like the one that Pansy had bought a couple of weeks ago) and perfume to join Pansy where she waited with her luggage.

As soon as we were left alone, Tracey turned to give me an anxious look, chewing her lower lip again with nervous fervour.

'Um... Sophia...'

I turned, wondering what she had to say that was making her quite so nervous. I'd noticed over the past couple of weeks that she barely spoke around our other room mates.

Daphne seemed to loath her, and treated her like dirt whenever Pansy wasn't there. Pansy, for her part, seemed largely indifferent to the girl, but obviously valued her company enough to include her in the Society.

I'd puzzled over what it was that made Tracey a valuable member; though she was very sweet, she seemed to be cripplingly shy around most people and ill-disposed towards the kind of scheming that went on.

'Yes?'

'Blaise really is very nice. He always helps me with my potions homework. Daphne's still upset about what happened, but I really don't think that he meant to hurt her.'

She looked at me with clear concern and I once again regretted my involvement in the nefarious scheme.

'I mean,' she continued, 'I know that Pansy wants this, and she's in charge, but-'

She sighed, seeming to be choosing her next words carefully.

'Do you think that there's any way you could try... not to hurt him too much?'

Her wide eyes were full of guilt and worry, and I felt sorely the kind of damage this scheme might do.

Not only was I deliberately looking to cause someone emotional pain, I was sure to be ruining whatever had begun between me and Draco.

For all my recognising that we were an impossible couple, I didn't want to destroy whatever this was before it even started.

From what I'd heard, though, those two were practically inseparable. Not only had I turned him down, I'd done it in order to break his best friend's heart.

This was a fucking mess.

I couldn't see any way out of it.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes:**

 **Hope you like.**

 **Please review. As before, interested in where people think the story is / should be going.**

Chapter 10

 _Saturday 13th September, Staircase from the girl's dormitories to the common room_

'Oh God.'

'You'll be fine,' she said softly, 'I'm sure you'll have a great time'

As I checked my hair (up in a bun, a few strands hanging down beside my face), and self-consciously adjusted my dress (having rejected the more ornate options for a black dress with bell sleeves and a knee-length skirt) Tracey looked at me,opening her mouth several times as if to speak, then seeming to think better of it.

'Okay, I have to go now. I said I'd be there in a minute's time.'

I felt the butterflies start in my stomach. I was nervous, and I'd only just realised that this would be my first real date. Which I was going on with a guy who I wasn't particularly attracted to, for the sake of a revenge scheme.

When, at a younger age, I'd pictured my love life at seventeen, this wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind.

Tracey looked at me, seeming almost... panicked?

'Wait!'

I turned to face her.

'Can you maybe... mention me to him? Not, like, anything in particular... Just to see what he says.'

Wait. Was Tracey _..._

'Okay.'

I paused before continuing.

'Why?'

'I...'

She hesitated.

'You're going to be late.'

'Shit.'

I could think about Tracey later. I rushed down the stairs to the common room, to where Zabini was waiting. He leaned against the wall by the door, looking immaculately groomed. Not a hair out of place, with the kind of smart-casual outfit that features in magazine. I felt underdressed.

He looked up at the clatter of my boots on the staircase. Daphne had wanted me to wear heels, but I'd refused, considering I was already pretty tall and could barely walk in them anyway.

'Sophia!' he said, brightly, and I frowned at his use of my first name.

'Something wrong?'

'No. I, ah, just remembered some homework I should have done,' I bluffed.

Blaise grinned, relieved.

'Tell me about it. It's only the second week and I feel like I'll never be able to sleep again. You ready to go, then?'

'Yes. Where to first?'

'Well,' he said, mock authoritative, 'We actually have to get there first. Then I thought we could have a look round the shops, since you've never been to Hogsmeade before.'

'Sure.'

We made our way out of the castle and down to where carriages waited.

When we got into one, Blaise explained that the huge leathery beasts drawing them could only be seen by those who'd witnessed death.

'They're hideous,' I remarked, trying not to think about the significance of this knowledge.

'I can see them too.'

After a few seconds of silence, he began telling an amusing anecdote about the Hufflepuff girl in his charms class, and we spent the rest of the journey in friendly conversation.

He really did seem sweet, I reflected. As we made our way to Honeydukes ('the most incredible sweet shop', he'd told me with childlike glee) I wondered what he'd really done to incur Daphne's wrath.

As we walked round the shop, he joked and explained all his favourite sweets to me, but I noticed that he seemed to be distracted.

'Are you looking for anything in particular?'

'Sorry,' he said, immediately looking guilty, 'It's just, there's this girl in my potions class...'

'Tracey?'

'Yeah.'

'We're roommates,' I explained, since he seemed surprised at my guess.

'Oh, right. Anyway, I mean, we're only friends,' he said hurriedly, 'but it's her birthday soon, and she gave me something for mine, so...'

This was... interesting.

'I think she likes the chocolate fudge.'

I'd heard her mention it the other day.

He brightened up immediately.

'Really?'

'Yes.'

'That's incredibly helpful. You're a lifesaver, really.'

'Glad to help.'

He went to buy the fudge, and I waited by the door.

What kind of sweets might Draco like, then?

Outside of the shop, I regretted not bringing my cloak. The cold wind blew past us again, and I shivered.

'Do you want to borrow my coat?'

I really did.

'Won't you be cold then?'

'Ah, it's no matter.'

He shrugged off the coat, and I wrapped myself up in it gratefully.

'Sorry,' he said, again, 'I know it's really bad form to be buying another girl gifts on what I'm hoping is a date.'

I smiled.

'That's fine. I know it'll make Tracey happy.'

Reaching The Three Broomsticks, we ducked in to find a table in the crowded bar.

'Two butterbeers, please.'

Butter-beer?

Did wizards have a lower drinking age, or something?

'So,' he said, 'Do I take it that you're rooming with the hell twins?'

'The who?'

'It's what Draco and I call Pansy and Daphne.'

A flicker of guilt seemed to cross his face at the second name.

'Not particularly fond of them, then?'

The drinks arrived at our table in the corner, and I took in the butterbeer. It was golden-brown and foaming, steam rising from the top. It smelt like mildly alcoholic butterscotch.

'We have a lot of history.'

'Really?'

He smiled ruefully.

'Pansy and Draco used to date. She was head over heels in love with him, still is, and he thought that it might please his parents.'

'And?'

Blaise shrugged.

'He got bored.'

I raised an eyebrow.

'Fickle.'

'His family had a lot going on at the time, so Draco's love life was no longer the going issue.'

'So Pansy's feelings were no longer important?'

I heard my tone grow sharper. Damn it. I was meant to be charming him, not being mean about his friend.

To do that to Pansy though...

'His father got landed in Azkaban, alright?'

Blaise frowned, clearly displeased with the direction our conversation was taking. I watched his hand grip tight around a butterbeer glass.

'I suppose... that might change things.'

I wasn't sure what 'Azkaban' was. Some kind of detention facility, by the sound of it. A prison? Or a mental hospital?

He sighed.

'His whole world was turned around. But she's still going after him.'

He shook his head, looking far more tired than he had a few minutes ago.

I shouldn't have been subjecting him to this kind of questioning, but I was intrigued. Blaise was sharing what seemed like fairly personal information. This could be a good source of knowledge for me. Draco Malfoy was the main target, according to Dumbledore, but I was sure that Zabini could prove a useful alternative.

The boy in question was looking gloomy though. Time to change the topic.

'I've never had butterbeer before.'

'Really? I'm honoured to be here when you lose your butterbeer virginity, then.'

The boy raised an eyebrow, and I restrained myself from laughter.

'Oh Blaise, you're so daring. So funny. So eloquent.'

'Shut up and drink your beer.'

I did as instructed. It was warm, sweet and vaguely spicy. I felt it rush warm down my throat, thawing my autumn-chilled body. The drink was comforting, like a grown-up version of hot chocolate. As I felt my muscles warm up and loosen, I realised that I could enjoy my time here with Blaise. I may have been playing him, but his intentions weren't necessarily as pure as they seemed either.

'So, Zabini, do you always bring girls here?'

He yawned and shifted in his seat.

'No. I can't go to Hogsmeade every weekend, can I?'

'Do I take it that you enjoy the affections of many young women, then?'

'Why not?'

I shrugged.

Daphne, believe it or not, had foreseen this as well. She wanted Blaise dedicated to me, and for that we had to have The Conversation.

'I was rather hoping you might consider reserving your affections for me.'

I raised my eyes from where I'd been staring at the empty mug of butterbeer to catch his gaze.

'Is there any particular reason I should?'

He leaned forward, and I felt the liquid courage of the alcohol running warm through my veins.

'I'll make it worth your time.'

'Meaning?'

'I'll go back to your room with you.'

He drew in a harsh breath.

'Tonight?'

I leaned forward.

'Third date.'

I kissed him on the cheek, before turning to speak to the waitress.

'Another two butterbeers, please.'


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes:**

 **Hello! Another update!**

 **If you read this and are able to write, please leave me a review. I would appreciate that.**

 **(In some ways I'd rather be writing this as a complete work before putting it online, but I've chosen to publish this chapter-by-chapter instead. Because I like the feedback and I think that people might enjoy watching the story unfold. So- that said- please review.)**

 **I think I'm beginning to get into the flow of the story. It's interesting to write and get to know (my versions of) the characters.**

 **As I've previously mentioned (*sigh*) I am incredibly interested in where people think the story is / should be going.**

 **It is unseasonably warm over here in the UK today, and I am annoyed.**

 **Hope you enjoy the new chapter.**

Chapter 11

 _Monday 22th September, Dungeons_

'Could you pass the hellebore?'

A bundle of sweet-smelling purple flowers skittered violently across the desk towards me. Draco showed no other sign of noticing that I'd spoken, or that I was even there.

Deep breath.

 _Supposed to be getting to know him. Supposed tobe gettingto knowhim. Supposedtobegettingtoknowhim._

'Are you ignoring me?'

He raised an eyebrow, gaze not moving from the textbook in front of him.

'Hardly.'

'Is this because of me and Blaise?'

He scowled, and turned to look at me before replying this time.

'Why would I ignore you for-'

His inane question was interrupted by the coughing of our potions teacher. The class grew instantaneously silent. Draco turned towards the front of the room and looked at Snape, ignoring the glare I was sending him.

'As you will be aware, should you have had the foresight to read this year's syllabus, NEWT level potions is assessed not only through examination, but with an independent research project.'

A murmur of surprise ran through the class. By the sound of some of these comments, I was not the only one unaware that out Potions class had a set syllabus, let alone one that was accessible to students.

'Students will be working with their desk partners on a shared aim, with the exceptions of Mr Potter and Miss Granger, who will be working independently.'

'Why?' asked a girl sitting at the front of the room.

'I do not appreciate your speaking out of turn, Miss Granger.'

'Why are Harry and I working alone?' persisted the girl.

She was facing away from me, so I could not see her face. From what I could see, she was of average height and build, her most distinctive visible feature being the chestnut coloured tangle of curls that puffed out over her neck and shoulders. Just as I wondered who this Granger girl was, to openly defy such a frightening teacher, Snape snapped back.

'Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence. To answer your most impertinent question, I believe that you and Mr Potter would cause trouble if permitted to work together.'

The Slytherins present laughed.

'Do not question my authority in future, Miss Granger, unless you harbour a desire to be sent to the headmaster's office. Now, any students who wish to remain in this class should collect their topics from my desk and research them for the remainder of the lesson.'

I watched as Draco stood up and walked stiffly to the Professor's desk, where Snape handed him a strip of paper. He walked back to our shared desk, mouth set in a sullen line. Sitting down, he placed in front of me the strip of paper, which I read, aghast.

Oh bloody hell. Of all the possible topics to research in this strange and convoluted quasi-scientific subject we got 'Love Potions'. Sweet mother of God. As if things weren't already tense enough.

'I suggest we research independently in the library, and combine our notes later.'

'That sounds ineffective. We might both find and write the same things. If we worked together, we could make sure to cover a larger amount of information.'

His scowl grew more pronounced as he realised that I was right.

'That desperate to spend time with me, are you?'

He'd made jokes like this before, but they'd been light-hearted and flirty in tone. This was just mocking.

The fact that he seemed hurt, though, was in some ways a good thing. If he cared enough for this show of petty cruelty, he probably cared enough to be won back.

'Hardly. I just value my potions grade higher than some petty grudge.'

'I'm not sure what 'petty grudge' you might be referring to, but I can assure you that I would not be so foolish as to allow personal matters to interfere in my academics.'

Icy.

How _was_ I going to win him back? If I continued to snap back at him, he'd only grow more irate. I needed to change tactic.

'You look nicer when you smile.'

For a moment he looked surprised, then he smirked. The Draco Malfoy mask was back up. At least we were talking. Arguing, anyway, and he seemed to think he was winning.

'What was that, Nagornichna?' he drawled, presumably wanting to call my bluff.

This had better work.

I raised my voice,

'I said, you look nicer when you smile.'

Draco seemed to struggle between maintaining a deadpan expression and grinning at my words. The grin won out for a dazzling few seconds before the mask went back up.

'So do you.'

That- that was enough for now. The icy treatment he'd subjected me to for the previous couple of weeks seemed finally to be ending.

Dealing with his... rejection (an absurd term to use, really, considering that I was the one who'd rejected him) had been harder than I'd expected. I'd gone through all of my classes, more than busy enough with homework and spell practice (which I'd mistakenly tried in the library, retreating to my room when it drew a crowd) and the oh so precarious business of fitting in.

* * *

 _Later that day, after classes, Slytherin Common-room_

'Babe, thanks for making up with Draco.'

'That's fine. I want to get along well with your friends.'

Blaise leaned down to kiss me on the cheek. His hand played with my hair as I lay with my head on his lap.

'He can be a bit hostile towards my girlfriends. I think he's worried that you'll be another Daphne.'

I laughed, trying to disguise my nervousness. He had no idea how close his words were to the truth.

'Oh, I'm sure he'll come round soon enough.'


	13. Chapter 12

**Hey.**

 **I feel like it's been forever since I last posted.**

 **I'm hoping this chapter's alright. I know where the story is going now, and have written some later scenes. All I need is the time to write and piece it all together. The Christmas holidays are coming up in a couple of weeks, so I should hopefully get some writing (and posting) done then.**

 **As always:**

 **If you like / hate / feel indifferent towards this fic or you feel like writing anything at all, please review. Reviews are really great, and make me feel like someone other than me cares about this story.**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Chapter 12

 _Tueday 8th October_

'So-phi-a!' sang a musical voice as I stepped out of the common-room door, 'You look amazing!'

The chiming voice belonged to Lily Moon, a seventh-year Ravenclaw student. Tall and pale, with dark brown hair, she'd approached me in Transfiguration one day.

'So,' she continued, 'are you ready for the party? First one of the year. It's going to be wild.'

I laughed at her exaggerated bad-girl manner. Lily Moon was a serious student, the third best in our year, who hadn't really struck me as the partying type.

'Right. Think you can handle it?'

It was her turn to laugh.

'Nice. I'd say the same to you. In Ravenclaw... we work hard, we play hard.'

I smirked. Honestly, the turn of phrase-

'Someone was raised on American films.'

'Very true. Come on, are you going or not?'

Dating Blaise was proving to have its advantages. Unlike most Slytherins, Blaise hadn't taken a side in the war. This, along with his good looks and charisma, made him popular with people of all houses.

Since we'd started dating, I'd found myself more easily accepted by the students around me. While I hadn't been exactly been shunned before, I'd received a kind of cautious fascination that was now fading into real acceptance.

Lily grabbed my hand, her expression one of mingled glee and anticipation.

'Come _on!_ '

She pulled me down the corridor.

I snapped out of my confusion. For a moment it had hit me. How far away I was, from my home and everything I'd ever known. I wanted to cry or laugh with the shock of it.

This... distance. The magic. The loss, the wonder.

How strange. How... arresting. How fantastically painful, incredibly beautiful, completely ridiculous.

'Oh my god. You're totally zoned out.'

I was right here, right now. Might as well enjoy it.

'Shut up!'

'You shut up!'

'Fuck you!'

'You wish!'

We ran down the corridor, laughing, in a moment so pure and light that it felt more like a film than real life.

Except, instead of the credits rolling, we reached the Ravenclaw common-room.

Lilly stopped in front of a statue. It was a kneeling figure, carved in white marble.

'This is the current entrance.'

'Current? Does it change?'

We were in a part of the castle unfamiliar to me. If pressed I'd say it was somewhere near the base of the astronomy tower, but the twists and turns and the constant magical alterations of the castle's corridors were still disorientating to me. We could have been anywhere.

'Every few weeks, yes. We never know when it'll change, but there are always clues to the new door left at the old one.'

I laughed.

'What's so funny?'

'This castle is ridiculous. The transfiguration classroom is ten minutes walk from the great hall, except on a Tuesday, when its fifteen. This morning, a portrait and a door swapped places in my room for no apparent reason.'

Lily looked at me oddly.

'So?'

I shrugged. Was this topic off-limits or something?

'I just thought it was funny.'

She kept staring at me, looking confused and even a little upset. When she spoke, her voice sounded stiff and more formal than before.

'In pureblood society, we believe that magic should be present in every aspect of our lives. The castle is not 'ridiculous'. It is magical.'

She emphasised the last word.

Shit. Shit. I'd gotten too used to spending time with these people. I'd forgotten to play my role, and was essentially being myself. My clueless, unwelcome, raised-by-muggles self. I wanted to scream and run away, find Dumbledore and get him to take me back home, to a place where I was a normal girl and my parents were still living.

Lily was still staring at me, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation.

Grow some balls, Sophia.

I could still fix this.

Still standing there, face to face with her in the deserted corridor, by the kneeling statue, I spoke, choosing my words carefully.

'I misspoke. What I meant to say was that this castle's expression of its magic seemed novel. Quaint. In Russia, our buildings do not play tricks unless their masters wish them to, which they rarely do. Your, ah, moving corridors and trick stairs are charmingly British in their eccentricity. I did not wish to cause offence by remarking upon it.'

The girl's posture relaxed a little.

'Sorry,' she said, sounding a little sheepish, 'what with the Ministry and Dumbledore on our backs these days, you can't be too careful.'

We both stood silent for a moment. After an awkward pause, Lily spoke again.

'Anyway, let's get to the party. They'll be wondering where we are.'

I smiled, and she gave me a small smile in return, before tapping the statue sharply with her wand. To my astonishment, the marble figure sprang to life, shifting a little before speaking in a clear, melodious voice.

'Which came first, the phoenix, or the flame?'

Lily frowned, clearly at a loss. Was this a riddle, or had she forgotten the password? We stood for a moment as she continued to frown, and I wondered what to do.

Then, to my surprise, I heard myself speak.

'A circle has no beginning.'

The statue bowed its head, setting back into motionless stone as a door appeared in the wall behind it.

Where had those words come from? I hadn't known the answer to the riddle until the moment it had bubbled up behind my lips.

Lily stepped forward and pushed at the dark wooden door that was now in front of us. It opened into a crowded room. I had time to glimpse a few familiar faces and the blue banners that were hung around the room, before the dark-haired girl took my hand, pulling me into the crowd.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes:**

 **Sorry that it's been so long! I'll try and update more regularly from now on.**

 **I'd appreciate any and all feedback :)**

Chapter 13

 _Wednesday, 9th of October, Third day of Half term_

I opened my eyes, hesitantly, just to shut them at the sudden onslaught of light.

Ow.

Jesus, God, Mary, this was bad.

I groaned and rolled over, hearing a laugh from someone near me.

As I became more conscious of my surroundings, I realised that this was not my bed. It wasn't even the dormitory bed that I had gotten used to.

In fact... Where was I?

'So, she finally wakes.'

That was...

'Lilly..'

The name came out as something between a groan and a plea.

She laughed again.

'Had a little too much to drink?'

'Shut up.'

'You seemed to be having fun last night, though.'

That tone of voice. Jesus. What had I done?

'Lilly.'

'Yes?'

Coy, innocent. God, how I hated her in that moment.

'What did I do?'

'What did you do when?'

'Last night, when I was drunk.'

'Oh, not much. Just danced, chatted, and, well...'

She trailed off.

I sighed, feeling cripplingly exhausted before the day had even begun.

'What did I do?'

Evidently, the knowledge was too good to keep from me any more, as the words came from Lilly in one continuous rush.

'You made out with Cho. In front of everyone. You were both wasted, so it isn't a big deal, but things got pretty heated. Let's just say I'm glad for Blaise's sake that you two weren't left alone.'

The memories were beginning to flood back. I had been dancing, and laughing, and meeting lots of new people. I'd loved the music and socialising. Lilly had kept passing me more shots of firewhisky, which, having seemed so good and necessary yesterday evening, were now the worst kind of poison in my system.

Last night's rush had turned into a pounding headache, and I needed to find out if there was a wizarding hangover cure. How else could Lilly be so chipper? How to ask, though, without exposing my 'muggle' ignorance?

I'd figure that out, right after addressing the most pressing issue at hand.

'Who the hell is Cho?'

More laughter. This girl was practically demonic.

'Cho Chang. Ravenclaw seeker. Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend and fangirl extraordinaire. I'd have thought you'd know her pretty well after yesterday evening.'

'Fuck off.'

'My, my Nagornichna. Not so polite anymore, are we?'

She relented.

'Here, I got you some hangover potion.'

I fluttered my eyelids open again, trying to avoid the glaring light that seemed to be coming from nearby windows, and stretched my arm towards the table where Lilly had just placed a goblet of a muddy brown potion.

The potion looked and smelled disgusting, but it seemed worth a try.

As soon as I took the first sip, I felt the throbbing pain in my head ease. Regaining some of my mobility, I sat up slightly in order to gulp down the rest of the goblet's contents as quickly as possible.

Now that the light was less painful, I opened my eyes fully to look and smile at Lilly Moon, who stood beside the sofa on which I was lying.

'You're welcome.'

'Thank you. You're an angel.'

* * *

 _Later that day, the Library_

'Nagornichna. We have work to do.'

Oh.

'Nice to see you too.'

The ghost of a smile crossed his face before quickly resolving itself into a by now familiar smirk.

'I'm sure it is. Now, I thought we could get some of this potions project done, unless you have plans with a certain Ravenclaw seeker that you aren't telling me about.'

I shot him a glare. Inwardly, though, I didn't mind. Friendly teasing beats icy silences any day.

'No. We're keeping things casual for the next while.'

'Really? Not one to commit, are you?'

'Well, it's a bit complicated, what with me having a boyfriend and all.'

His posture stiffened slightly at the mention of Blaise.

Huh. He was touchy as hell about me and Blaise, yet had no problem with the fact that I'd made out with Cho. Was it the fact that I was dating his friend in particular that bothered him?

'Sit down.'

I waved my hand vaguely towards the chair across from me. This table was near the back of the library, and quite secluded. It must have taken him a while to find me.

'So, where do we start?'


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes:**

 **Hi! Please don't hate me for the shit writing. I'm trying, ok?**

 **Please please please leave reviews. It doesn't take long, they can even be anonymous and reading reviews genuinely makes me so so happy.**

 **(Plus it encourages me to work on the fic, meaning that you get more frequent updates. _And better writing._ )**

Chapter 14

 _Friday 11th October, 5th Day of Half-term_

We met again in the library after a couple of days of, well-

I hadn't exactly been avoiding her, but you couldn't really call it anything else.

She'd been walking past our table when a certain blonde boy sitting across from me had caught sight of her.

'Chang.'

She looked up, seeming surprised to realise who'd just her name.

'Malfoy.'

'Aren't you going to say hello to Nagornichna?'

She began to say something then choked on the words, looking the very picture of shock.

'It seems a bit rude to ignore her, considering how …. close you two apparently are.'

'Shut up,' I snapped.

He grinned at me, clearly loving this. We hadn't really spoken for the past couple of days, except to coordinate various bits of research. The silence had been nice, though. Companionable. I'd almost thought we could be friends, until he'd just opened his mouth and ruined things again.

'Don't mind him, Cho.'

Cho seemed to be recovering from the shock of being spoken to by Malfoy. She straightened up, shaking her brown hair out of her eyes, to stand tall in her Ravenclaw robes.

'Um...' she hesitated, 'Alright.'

She made to walk on, but Malfoy, the prat, was seemingly unable to let this rest.

'Don't you two have to talk?'

Cho stared at him, surprise having faded to derision in her eyes.

'What about?'

'Oh, you know. Things. That happened. Between you and Sophie the other night.'

She raised an eyebrow.

'What's it to you?'

She began walking round the table to face him head on.

'Hoping to listen? Or just jealous?'

I grinned at her comment before taking on a serious tone.

'Good question. Why are you so fixated on this issue, Malfoy?'

'I'm concerned for Sophie. Her relationship issues might interfere with the completion of our Potions project.'

She smirked.

'Right. The potions project. Which you're working on now because you're such a good student. And don't just need an excuse to spend time alone with your best friend's girlfriend.'

I heard my own gasp, as if from a distance, as I tried to process the allegation. I knew that Malfoy had been interested, but I hadn't considered that our study sessions could be anything but innocent.

Malfoy, for his part, was looking back and forth at me and Cho, seemingly at a loss for words.

Cho stepped back, breaking the moment.

'Meet me here after dinner, Nagornichna. Mafoy's right. We need to talk.'

As she walked off, Malfoy seemed to shake off the stupor that had seized him.

'Sophia, what Chang said isn't true. Blaise is my friend, and I-'

'It's fine, Malfoy.'

'No, I want you to know that I don't- I would never-'

'It's fine, Malfoy. Let's just keep working so we can finish this project soon, alright?'

* * *

 _After Dinner, the Library_

'You know you're too good for him, right?'

'Who, Blaise?'

'No, you idiot. Malfoy.'

'There's nothing between me and Malfoy. I don't think of him like that.'

She looked doubtful, but gestured for me to sit down at the chair across the table from her. The chair where Malfoy always sat during our study sessions.

'Maybe you don't, but you should see the way he looks at you.'

'He doesn't look at me.'

'He stares. When he thinks that no one's watching.'

'I- ah. What did you want to talk about?'

'Tuesday night.'

'I- you're very nice, but I have a boyfriend. Blaise and I,-'

She rolled her eyes.

'I know that. It was a one-off and I wouldn't do anything to hurt Blaise.'

'No?'

'He's not just popular, you know. People really like him. He's a nice guy.'

She looked at me earnestly.

'I know.'

We were both silent for a moment.

'So, what did you want to talk to me about?'

'Tuesday night.'

'But you said-'

'I realised, on Wednesday morning, that I wished you weren't together with Blaise.'

Where was she going with this?

'When I thought about it, though, it wasn't even you that I particularly wanted. I just want to be in a relationship. I'm tired of being alone, and of making out with girls who have boyfriends.'

'You're telling me this because?'

'I want your help. Mandy's too busy with her boyfriend, Lily still thinks I'm in love with Harry Potter and the rest of my friends are boys. Which means that it's your job to help me find a girlfriend.'

'I don't follow.'

'You're mysterious and new, which means that people want to talk to you. Which means you'll be good at finding potential candidates. Also, if you don't, I might decide to tell Blaise about how you and Draco have been 'studying'' she said, putting little finger-quotes around the word, 'together all week.'

What was with these girls? Tracey was the only one I'd met so far who didn't seem to have some kind of a dark side.

'What do you want me to do?'

'Talk to girls from other houses. I already know all of the Ravenclaws and there's no way I'm dating a Slytherin. Find out if they like girls. Tell me who does, and I'll see if they're my type.'

'So you're just assuming that every gay girl in this school will want to date you?'

She seemed to consider the idea for a second before replying.

'Yes.'

I must have looked sceptical, because she sighed and shifted to the side, catching the light of a nearby lamp.

'Look at me.'

I did. As I looked, it began to dawn on me that she had a point.

The lamplight, soft and golden, glinted off of the sharp edges of her cheekbones. Her skin was icy pale and provided a flawless contrast to the dark brown of her hair. Her clothes and make-up were perfect, but only in that they emphasised her already angelic appearance.

She glanced up at me, and was clearly satisfied that she'd proven herself right. Standing up, she gave me one last meaningful look.

'Talk to them. Report back to me. Find her. And have fun with Blaise.'

As Cho left in a rustle of robes and perfume, I sat back to try, once again, to figure out exactly what I thought I was doing here.


	16. Chapter 15

**Hi!**

 **Another update. Sorry for the weird structuring, editing etc. I'm going to be fleshing out Sophia's backstory in the next few chapters.**

 **1000x thank you to all who have followed + left reviews. If you feel like leaving a review, I can promise you eternal gratitude.**

 **Updates might get more frequent now that I am in the process of tearing apart my life. Or not. Depends on whether I'm feeling productive or destructive. (FUN.)**

Chapter 15

 _Saturday, 12th October, 6th day of Half-term_

'Nagornichna.'

Great.

'I'm not talking to you.'

I made no effort to mask the annoyance in my voice.

He scowled at me, and I didn't find it attractive in an odd sort of way. I didn't find it attractive in any kind of way because _I had a boyfriend._

I continued on my walk from the middle of the common-room (where I had been studying) to the girls' staircase. Draco Malfoy, who had just walked into the room, sped up, evidently trying to catch me up before I reached the staircase (which, as I'd found out from Daphne's complaints, was inaccessible to boys).

I forced myself to walk faster, resisting the ridiculous urge to slow down and let him catch me up. To turn around and let him talk. Let him win me back. Like I said, ridiculous. _I had a boyfriend._

As I walked the last few paces towards the dark, smooth marble stairs (who builds a staircase out of marble, anyway?), he broke into a run, grabbing my shoulder just before I took the first step.

I flinched away from his touch, and tried to ignore the hurt in his expression.

'Would you stop being so dramatic?'

'I'm not the one running across the common-room.'

'Oh, honestly-'

He made a face, before parroting my words in a mocking tone.

"I'm not talking to you."

'Well, I'm not.'

'Could you at least be a bit more discreet about it? The third-years were staring.'

I looked behind him to the main common-room area to see the eyes of several third-years trained on us, their chatter having fallen silent in the desperate effort to pick up some gossip.

Of course. We were older students and of good family names. Not only that, but I was still something of a wild-card when it came to the social dynamics of the house. Any kind of public argument between me and Malfoy would become scandalous gossip and premium social currency to whoever spread it.

'They still are.'

He frowned.

'Do you think we could go somewhere more private then?'

I raised an eyebrow, half wanting to say yes so that I could spend time with him alone and see what he had to say to me that was so important. Fortunately, while half my mind was captivated by the way that his hair was all ruffled from running, the other half was issuing a constant screaming reminder that I _didn't_ want him and I was only here to spy on him and his friends. Something that had become increasingly hard to remember over the past couple of weeks.

'I'm sort of busy right now.'

Lie. All I had waiting for me upstairs was homework.

He continued to frown, still looking more than a little hurt.

'Listen, if this is about what Chang said, it really isn't true. I'd never-'

'I know.'

I took a breath and reminded myself that his romantic indifference to me was a good thing, before continuing

'What I'm irate about are the things you said to Cho that made her annoyed enough to say that.'

He half-smirked at my use of Cho's first name, but, wisely, chose not to remark on it.

'Anyway, what did you want to say?'

He rolled his eyes.

'Granger's looking for you.'

'Granger?'

'Hermione Granger. Gryffindor know-it-all. I believe you're familiar with her?'

I made the link between the name and the bushy-haired girl who sat at the front of my potion's class.

'Why was she looking for me?'

'I don't know. Said it was important though, and that you should meet her in the library after dinner.'

I sighed, choosing for a moment to pretend that he wasn't watching me. I honestly didn't feel like going to another secret meeting. It seemed like every few days I became entangled in some new drama. Why were people constantly involving me in their problems? Pansy and Daphne, Cho, now it looked like Hermione wanted something from me as well. Of course, Dumbledore had been the one to start the whole thing off.

I smiled wryly at the thought. Things had been so uncomplicated before I'd gotten to Hogwarts.

'What's so funny?'

I looked up, somehow startled that Draco was still there.

'Oh, nothing. I'm just tired of all the drama.'

He laughed, softly enough that the third-years wouldn't be able to hear.

'What's so funny?'

My words deliberately echoed his, and he grinned at the resemblance.

'You're tired of drama, but to most of us you _are_ the drama.'

What?

'I don't follow.'

He was smirking at me, clearly amused by my failure to comprehend the inherent drama of my own nature. His expression was so radiantly smug that I was tempted to stop talking to him again, in the hopes that it would assuage my acute feeling of embarrassment.

'Think about it, Sophie. You turned up, a new student in the sixth year, and your first moves were to date the most popular boy in the school and befriend the most popular girls. Not only that, but you're the mysterious and beautiful heiress to a lost Russian branch of pureblood society.'

I was startled to hear myself described in those terms.

Mysterious, yes.

Somehow in with the popular people, thanks to my imaginary blood-lines. Technically true, but I constantly had the feeling of walking on thin ice.

Beautiful.

To hear myself described in Malfoy's words, I was some kind of intriguing It-girl, turning up and stirring things up at Hogwarts. Yet I'd spent the past few weeks feeling like I was barely keeping it together.

'Not to mention the wandless magic.'

That was the only thing that I was really proud of. I'd been working on my spellcasting since I got to Hogwarts, practising whenever I could get the dormitory to myself. In the past half-term I'd gotten to a level where I could consistently cast fifth-year level spells.

'Right. Of course.'

He stepped closer to me, until we were standing face to face.

'God, you're tall.'

His voice was soft, quiet. Boys says some of the most inane things.

I felt my mouth curling into a grin.

'The third-years are still staring.'

I had wanted to say something that would kill this odd, fragile moment that was forming between us.

This was wrong, for some reason I couldn't quite remember. I kept thinking that I ought to move away, then getting distracted by the feeling of his breath on my face, blowing a few stray strands of silvery hair to the side.

He smirked slightly at my obvious baiting, and raised his hands to my shoulders, pushing till I took one, two, three steps back, and we were hidden, out of sight in the shadows below the stairs.

'Problem solved.'

Damn it. Now I was backed against a wall, and rapidly becoming incapable of any coherent thought, let alone remembering what my hesitations about this could be about.

He was interesting and beautiful, and standing very, very close to me. One advantage of being tall was that Draco and I were perfectly matched, standing face to face, bodies lined up in symmetry.

'Now, what was I saying?'

My mind reeled, looking for the answer to this question.

'Something...'

I searched, all too aware of how I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, just millimetres away from mine.

'Something about my being beautiful and interesting? You can keep talking about that, if you want.'

The words came out in a whisper. He was similarly quiet, and I felt, rather than heard, his chuckle.

'Mm. Beautiful, and interesting, and tall.'

It was my turn to laugh.

'Tall. Is that a good or a bad thing?'

'Very, very, good,' his mouth moved closer to mine, 'It means that it's very convenient for me to,'

His lips moved to brush over mine.

Convenient.

This was blissful, and everything I'd desperately wanted but told myself I couldn't-

Convenient.

Leave it to Draco Malfoy to use that word.

All of the niggling doubts I'd lost track of; about him, about us, about Blaise- oh god, Blaise- came rushing back. I had to stop this, even though I wanted nothing more than to sink into the moment and forget everything. I had to stop this. I searched, desperately, for something, anything to say as I pulled away, and-

'Granger.'

He looked at me like I was mad.

'What?'

I probably was mad. This was probably all some delusion. Maybe I was in a coma. Maybe I was dreaming, and in a minute I'd wake up at home in my own bed.

'You said that she was looking for me. That it was urgent.'

He stepped back, and I felt some of the fog clear from around my brain. We'd just- had we been-

Shit.

He pouted, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to run away, or just step back into his arms.

I became aware of the fact that were both flushed and breathing heavily.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

'Um, yes,' he looked hesitant, and the rarity of it brought me back to the last time. Early morning. An offer of quidditch lessons. I'd thought things were complicated then, but they'd only gotten more tangled up as the term had progressed. At this rate I wasn't going to make it till the end of the year without getting found out, or killed, or both.

'She was looking for you. Said it was important.'

'Right.'

What were we going to do now? I couldn't let Blaise know, but would Draco-

They were best friends. Did that mean that Draco couldn't ever tell him, complicit as he was, or that he had to bare all and beg for forgiveness. Had I just ruined both of our relationships?

'I have to go now. Homework.'

I nodded numbly, still trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.

He left the stairwell for the common-room, giving me one last searching glance on his way out, looking nearly as confused as I felt.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

 _The library, later, same fucking table as last time_

'Granger.'

Her bright eyes met my wary gaze as she looked up from the book in front of her.

'Oh! Sophia! I wasn't sure if the message would reach you in time.'

I sat down on the chair across from her, where Draco had been sitting yesterday morning.

'I'm so glad that you made it. How are you?'

She spoke as if we were old friends, when we were barely acquaintances. The expression she wore was one of concern, but her every word and movement was full of energy. I'd been told that she was extraordinarily studious, and even talking to her now, Granger seemed to burn with a vital force that I lacked.

'It's been a long day.'

'I bet.'

The look she gave me was... sympathetic, but somehow knowing. This girl had something on me. (Who didn't these days, though?)

My expression seemed to have given something away, or maybe this was just how she lived, because her next comment was delivered in a tone of confession and confidence.

'Dumbledore told me about your situation. He thought it might be useful for you to have a peer to confide in.'

Was this an offer of _friendship_?

'Is that so?'

Useful. A peer to confide in.

Friendship under duress, evidently.

'I've been in the wizarding world for longer than you have, but I remember what it was like at first,' she shook her head,

'I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you to learn this all on your own.'

I felt myself staring at her, wary. I'd been here for weeks, desperately hiding my identity and my ignorance of the world that I'd been thrown into. Now this girl was telling me, out of the blue, that she knew my secret.

What if this was a set-up? I'd have fallen for the simplest of tricks.

'I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps you have me confused for someone else?'

'It's ok, Sophia. You can let your guard down.'

I raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and unwilling to yield any ground.

She sighed, but continued to smile at me, almost too painfully earnest to look at.

'Your real name is Sophie Russell. You're seventeen years old. Your parents died this summer in a death eater attack.'

I flinched.

'Dumbledore found you soon afterwards, and explained what happened. You made the very brave choice to undergo a full-body transfiguration in order to help the Order by gathering information. Do you believe me yet?'

She delivered the entire speech in an entirely casual tone, as if she were talking about potions homework, or what had been served for breakfast.

'Should we really be discussing this in the library? Anyone could hear.'

She frowned.

'I've cast a spell so that people can't here what we're saying. It's _Muffliato_.'

I was still not processing the abrupt change in social setting.

'It's okay, Sophie. You can be yourself around me.'

Myself. Sophie.

It had only been a few weeks, but the name was starting to sound unfamiliar.

I said the only thing that came to mind,

'I am being myself.'

An absurd statement.

She gave me a slightly pitying smile, and I found myself staring at the crinkles that formed by her eyes, for lack of anything constructive to do.

'Your real self.'

My real self.

'Come on, I want to get to know you. Likes, dislikes, interests.'

It was a straightforward enough question, but I felt my heart beat speed up at it, as if in response to an adrenaline spike. I wasn't panicking though. There was no reason to be nervous.

What should I say whatshould Isay whatshouldIsay.

'I really have had a long day. Could we do this some other time?'

She looked startled, but then rearranged her face into a smile again.

'Of course. It's so good to finally talk to you.'

'You too,' I mumbled, before getting up to walk back to my room.

The truth is, I'm not sure who I was before getting to Hogwarts.

Who was Sophie Russell?

Sophia Nagornichna is beginning to feel much more real than 'the real me' ever was.

Out in the 'muggle world', I'd been more of a blank space than a girl. I'd tried, and generally succeeded in blending into the background of every scene.

Sophia Nagornichna was a character that I was playing, and one that, in large part, I'd had to create. I'd given her a backstory. Sophia Nagornichna had friends, a boyfriend and political beliefs. She was somebody.

As I walked up the girls' staircase to my room, I tried to remember what, if anything, had interested me Before. Hogwarts was so vivid that my previous life now seemed empty in comparison.

I hadn't realised before, but my entire existence had been eclipsed and engulfed by the surreal adventure of the last few weeks.

I walked into the room and immediately sensed the charged atmosphere. God, I was too fucking tired for this.

I moved towards my bed, trying not to notice the expectant stares of my roommates, hoping against hope that if I pretended hard enough they'd just let me sleep.

No such luck, though. Upon reaching my bed, I was confronted with the sight of Pansy sprawled out in front of me.

'So, Nagornichna. It seems you've been getting up to all sorts of things while we were away.'

I sighed. Of course. Within a couple of hours of returning to Hogwarts, Daphne would have gotten caught up on all the gossip, before passing it on to Pansy.

Pansy laughed delicately, the sound managing somehow to convey exactly how little this situation amused her. When she spoke, it was in a rich, throaty voice, to mock.

'Ah yes. Questionable taste there.'

Daphne sniggered like an obedient little minion. Tracey, for her part, just sat on her bed and stared at the three of us as the situation unfolded.

'Chang. Really? I mean,' she gave me a cursory glance, ' I'm sure you could do better.'

'It was an accident. I got drunk, and-'

'We weren't asking for the details,' snapped Daphne, presumably taking some delight in using a collective noun for herself and Pansy.

'What were you asking for, then?'

The question was rude, insubordinate and probably went against every pureblood and Slytherin code. With the day I'd had though, I was starting not to care.

Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but stopped immediately when she saw Pansy raise a hand. The girl's glossy, poison-apple red lips pursed for a second before she began to speak. She was clearly aware of the eyes on her, and delighted in making us wait, even momentarily.

'Blaise seems to have been lured in, despite your recent conduct. It's time to proceed to phase two.'

I resented being queued, but knew that I had to behave. Holding back a sigh, I asked

'What's phase two?'

It was Daphne's turn to reply.

'For the next two weeks or so, you up the ante. Make sure he's really invested, then break it off. Suddenly.'

I was surprised enough to talk back.

'We haven't even had a proper second date yet.'

She waved her hand dismissively.

'That's not the point. He clearly cares about you. It's time to break his heart.'

This was so fucked up. Blaise had turned out to be much nicer than I'd expected. Besides, Tracey, who hadn't spoken yet, was watching wide-eyed, with an expression approaching horror.

'So, Nagornichna. Are you in?'

'Do I have a choice?'

Pansy gave a wicked smile, before sitting up. The movement was sinuous, as was her subsequent shrug.

'You're either with us or against us.'


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes:**

 **Long time without an update. Sorry. I'm currently in the process of studying for my final (end-of-school) exams. (I ought to be studying now, but writing helps me deal with stress. Or at least that's my excuse.)**

 **As always, I appreciate any and all reviews. It matters a lot to me just to know that people are reading this (which I hope they are...).**

Chapter 17

 _Monday, 14_ _th_ _October, First Day Back_

I am an autumn angel.

It's another one of those picture-perfect moments that keep cropping up, more and more frequently as of late. I catch myself zoning out and watching my life like it's a film, or a story that I'm going to tell some day, instead of something very real and fragile, where any mistake has dangerous (quite possibly fatal) repercussions.

See Sophia walk by the lake with her boyfriend. Watch the orange-red-brown leaves of the trees swirl around them. See her give that sweet smile and hold very still as he brushes the silver hair out of her eyes. That smile, that hair, that boyfriend. Not really hers, but not exactly anyone else's either.

I'm acting, playing my part. Smiling, making nice. Enjoying those sweet words and little touches, brief moments almost eclipsed by my imminent betrayal. Break us up, break his heart, all for the sake of these little missions. Humiliate a boy as part of Daphne's quest for vengeance.

'Sophia?'

'Mm?'

I turn, admiring the way that the autumn sun brings out russet tones in Blaise's hair. He's so pretty, and so sweet.

'I was wondering...'

She continues, trapped within a story that someone else is writing. Plots within plots. Trickery and mayhem and mischief. Gathering intel for an organization she isn't part of, fighting in a war she doesn't understand.

'Yes, darling?'

The word isn't quite so cloying on my tongue any more. I can almost believe this act, this persona.

'Did Tracey like the gift that I got her?'

Huh.

I grin, hiding my surprise about his hesitant little inquiry. I've been putting this particular puzzle together for a while, and he may have just handed me another piece.

'She loved it. It was wonderful to see her so happy.'

He smiled, an expression full of genuine, glowing proud. Blaise, now that I know him better, sometimes lets the cool, charming facade down to reveal the vulnerably earnest teenage boy underneath. This is one of those moments, and I am a little enchanted and very intrigued by the way his hands flutter at his sides when he speaks again.

'Really? I'm glad. We're.. she's a good study partner.'

I keep smiling, as my cheeks begin to ache.

'It's always good to get along with your classmates.'

'Darling?'

I blush at the casual endearment.

'Yes?'

It's funny how we follow this pattern. So constantly, continuously hesitant. A call and response of darling / yes / please / can you / will we / should we, questioning and confirming our existences, this tenuous link.

'What was your life like in Russia?'

We sit down on a nearby bench, hands twined together, looking out at the lake.

'I..'

I hesitate, watching the surface of the lake, with its reflected red and gold and green, shift in the breeze.

'You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. It's just that I barely know what your life was like before you got here.'

'Oh, of course. That's fine. I just... wasn't sure where to start, you know?'

His grip on my hand, momentarily tighter, relaxes again.

'My family went out of favour twice in the history of Russian pureblood society. First, with the downfall of our aristocracy at the beginning of the 20th century. Then, as you probably know, we rose back into prominence in through our support of the Dark Lord. We- my parents- thought that no one could touch them under his protection.'

I paused, pretending to be choked up with emotion. Blaise curved his arm around my waist, and I leaned into his shoulder, congratulating myself on how well I'd recited my fictional history before launching back into the well-rehearsed spiel.

'They were killed as soon as he fell, along with half our servants. Those who remained alive decided I was no longer safe. I spent my whole childhood in hiding on one of our country estates.'

Blaise sighed, the sound harsh with frustration.

'You weren't safe?'

'Sins of our fathers, and all that.'

'But you were a _baby_.'

His arm tightened around my waist, and I tilted my head up to kiss him on the cheek. The skin was marble-smooth and hot under my lips.

'People can be incredibly cruel. I'm sure you know that by now.'

'Trust me, sweet, I do.'

'I... um. I hope you won't consider me rude for asking, but you've never really told me much about your life, either.'

Another sigh.

'I forget that you haven't grown up in our social circles. My apparently unfortunate family circumstances are common knowledge, I'm afraid.'

I waited, with bated breath, for him to tell me what I'd already heard from Dumbledore. I'd told the old wizard, with his mysterious political agendas, about my current infiltration of the Slytherin ranks so that he could give me the necessary social information.

'I'm not entirely sure who my father was. As long as I can remember, my mother's gone through suitor after suitor. They're all very old and very rich and they die quite soon after marrying her.'

'It must have been difficult to grow up like that.'

'I didn't mind the men themselves. Most of them weren't bad, and if they were, then it didn't matter because they'd be gone soon enough. What-'

He choked up slightly, and I clasped his hand, wondering at how he seemed to be baring his soul.

Taking in a shaky breath, he continued to speak.

'What bothered me were the comments. You know they call her the black widow? All of my friends' mothers, gossiping about the way that Elora Zabini had married yet another man, how she'd been like this since she was old enough to date.'

'Oh, Blaise.'

The casual use of his first name somehow felt more intimate than all of the pet names preceding it. I blushed, trying to figure out what this odd new territory was that we'd just entered.

We sat together by the lake, hands twined together, my head on his shoulder, his arm around my waist. I half expect the background music to kick in as a camera pans out. The leaves continued to fall.

* * *

'He really cares about you.'

It's late at night, and we're sitting in the commonroom. I'd sworn to myself that I'd avoid this boy until I'd figured out how to separate Sophia's feelings, the act, from my own.

'I know.'

I'd sworn to avoid him, but it's two in the morning and I've spent the past five hours studying desperately for a transfiguration test. I'm tired, and confused about so many things. All I want, at this point, the one thing that I desperately long for, is someone, something that feels safe.

'Don't hurt him, ok?'

'Of course. I know that you're worried because he's your friend, but I really care about him too.'

I'm going to go to hell for this, whether or not I make it out alive.

'About what happened, on Saturday-'

'It was an accident. We were both confused and tired, and it doesn't mean anything.'

My voice sounds more confident than I feel. He nods, blonde hair flopping across his eyes, where he sits stiffly across from me. Now that we are just pureblood acquaintances and no longer sort-of kind-of something more, he's become more formal.

'Blaise... he's had a hard time of it, you know?'

'I know,' the words catch in my throat, 'he told me. About his mother and the teasing and things.'

My voice trails off lamely. Malfoy obviously knows him much better than I do. They're best friends. I'm just the latest girlfriend, and barely that.

Malfoy smiles for the first time since he sat down to do his work. It's a sad little smile, full of nostalgia and the kind of shared memories that I don't have with anyone anymore.

'You know, when he got here, everyone gave him hell for it. Called him the son of a whore and a murderer.'

He shakes his head, and I frown at the image of a little boy being called names for what his mother did.

'He put up with it for all of the first day. The next morning, when someone at breakfast made a comment about who his father might be, Blaise turned around and punched that prat in the jaw. Knocked him onto the ground. Only one person dared to insult him after that, and she ended up in the hospital wing.'

'Oh.'

'He's tough, Blaise. Learnt to take care of himself.'

It's my turn to nod. He's clearly going somewhere with this, and I'm uncomfortable again. I don't know what to do with this mixture of sadness and anger, vulnerability laced with violence.

'In Slytherin, we'll do anything for family. Blaise was willing to break a few bones to defend his mother and family name. He's like a brother to me. We'll do anything for family, Sophia, and I'm not an eleven year old boy.'

* * *

 _Tuesday 15th October_

The note reaches me at breakfast.

 _Dear Sophia_

 _I hope you have continued to settle in well since our last chat._

 _Five o'clock._

 _Sherbet lemons._

'What's that?'

I look over at Tracey who sits, bleary-eyed and a little less impeccably groomed than the rest of the Slytherin girls, across from me.

'Note from my accountant.'

The reply seems innocuous enough to me, but Daphne latches on immediately.

'Financial difficulties, Nagornichna? If you need any assistance, I'm sure my parents will be happy to help.'

'Hardly. Just reviewing my investment portfolio.'

She nods, satisfied at my response to her challenge. I catch some of the boys at our table giving me looks of envy, presumably at my ability, as sole heir, to manage the estates finances.

I drift through a day of lessons, smiling and chatting sweetly enough to pass. People's eyes follow me in the corridors, and even alone, I can hear the portraits whispering to each other. Inside, behind the walking, talking giggling shell of a girl, I am exhausted from the constant vigilance and the uncertainty and the acting.

I walk up to Dumbledore's office, to the gargoyle statues that must know me by now.

'Sherbet lemons.'

With a hideous wink, the left-hand statue acknowledges the password and shifts its body, a wrinkled , hunched over lump of stone, out of the way.

When I enter the office, at 4:55, Dumbledore is waiting for me.

'Sophia. Take a seat.'

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and a smile spreads across his face. His whole demeanour projects 'old man who means no harm'. The manner and appearance is so kind-hearted and gentle that one can make no rational argument against trusting him. It is for this reason, for the bizarre perfection of his image, that I distrust him. No one that totally, truly good would use a seventeen year old orphan as a spy.

'Have you learnt anything of interest? Remember that any piece of information pertaining to Voldemort might help our side win.'

Our side. I hardly know what we're meant to be fighting for. When this enigma of a headmaster appeared in my sitting room, he told me that my parents had died as casualties of this war, and that the best way to avenge their deaths would be fighting for the light side. That the light side was 'light' because it was fighting an evil man. That the evil man was evil because he fought the light. There had been mentions of torture and manipulation, but I was reluctant to believe in the moral superiority of a side that used children as spies.

'Zabini says that Malfoy is worried about having to choose between his family and Lord Voldemort. Daphne's mother wants her to marry Theodore Nott.'

Dumbledore gave me a patronising smile at the irrelevant, obvious information.

'And how does Miss Greengrass feel about Mr Nott?'

He said the words in a sing-song voice clearly meant to humour me.

'She isn't sure how to feel.'

'Very well. Continue working to gain their trust. Your work could yield results that change the course of the war.'


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes:**

 **In case anyone was wondering, I haven't abandoned this fic. I've just been busy with end-of-school exams and starting my first job.**

 **I'm back to updating. If you like / hate / don't care about this fic, please please review. Sorry to always ask - it's just the one thing that makes me feel like other living, breathing human beings actually care about this silly little story, and makes me want to write much more.**

* * *

Chapter 18

Every since it happened. Ever since that day, I've been in this eerie, trance-like state, just waiting for the shock to hit. You can't have something like that happen and simply come out unscathed.

Can you?

I'm not sure what I'm more afraid of; that I might feel all the pain, suddenly, or that it might never reach me at all.

If my parents died and I feel nothing, what does that make me?

Some days, when I wake up, I barely feel human.

Still, when the pain hits, it's hardly a relief. Pain is almost never a relief. It's just agonising.

* * *

 _Wednesday 16_ _th_ _October_

'Nagornichna?'

I'm not sure how long I've been lying here for.

I sat down a while ago when standing got too difficult. I promised myself that I'd stand up after a minute or two of rest.

'What are you doing?'

Then, when sitting up seemed like too much effort, I sort of slumped down. Which is how I got here, lying in an undignified heap for god knows how long.

'Nagornichna?'

I keep my eyes shut, pressing the lids down even tighter.

'Sophia?'

I can feel warm breath on my face. For a moment I am almost surprised.

Then his hand is on my neck. Is he going to strangle me? Has he found me out?

Do I care?

'Damn it, Nagornichna.'

His fingers are pressing on my jugular vein, where the blood pulses, steady. He lets out a sigh after a few seconds of feeling my heartbeat thrum.

His fingertips move to my eyelids then, lightly lifting the right one and staring down at me.

I blink.

'Sophia?'

He flinches back, as if I've caught him doing something he shouldn't have. He gathers himself then, regaining composure.

'What are you doing?'

'Please... Stop.'

I force the words out and they move sluggishly, as if reluctant.

'Good god, Nagornichna.'

He shakes his head and sits up straighter.

'Well, come on, get up. It's nearly curfew.'

I close my eyes again.

'S- Nagornicha. What are you _doing_?'

This is tiring.

'For Merlin's sake, woman. Get it together.'

His hand reaches to my shoulder and gives a hesitant tug.

'Go away, Malfoy.'

'Don't be ridiculous. What kind of a Slytherin would I be to leave a girl of good blood to struggle on her own?'

Stasis.

I just want to lie here until everything goes away.

'Come on.'

His hand tugs at my shoulder again, more firmly this time.

'I'm not leaving unless you get up and come with me.'

'Go. Away.'

He reaches, with both hands this time, to grasp my shoulders, tugging the dead weight of my torso into something approaching a sitting position.

'Why are you doing this?'

God, is that pain in his voice? _He_ thinks he's fucking suffering?

I open my eyes, and try to summon up the energy to glare.

'None of your fucking business.'

He flinches. The bloody coward. Few things make me more angry than people who act like their witnessing your pain is worse than your experience of it.

'Oh, really? I suppose I should just leave you here for Pansy to find, then? She would have a field day with that, you know.'

'So? That's no concern of yours.'

He's frowning. Then he sneers.

'Manners, Nagornichna.'

I make one last-ditch effort to draw of the shattered pieces of myself together.

'Sorry, Malfoy. I misspoke.'

I stand up, and begin to walk towards the dormitories before he can say anything, and before I can fall apart again.

'Nagornicha?'

His voice is sharper now.

I turn around. I suppose he expects me to feel ashamed. I'm aware, dimly, that I'm walking a fine line here. If this got out, a month and a half of careful work and making connections could be ruined overnight.

'I- I apologise for the fact that you had to witness that,' I summon the shadow of a smile, that feels unconvincing even to me, 'I had a headache, and I think Pomfrey might have given me a bad potion.'

Malfoy begins to look more comfortable. This is familiar territory, safe.

'That incompetent fool,' he drawls, rolling his eyes, 'my father says she was only hired because she agrees with Dumbledore's muggle-loving agenda'

My brain feels like it is full of mud. I'm back to struggling to stay upright, trying to sum up the effort to make those perfunctory noises that will allow me to leave without giving myself away.

'Listen, Malfoy. I think I'll go sleep it off.'

I hesitate.

'I would- appreciate it. If you didn't mention this to anyone.'

He gives a slight smirk at that, clearly pleased by how close I am to flat-out begging him to keep this secret.

'Alright. But you owe me a favour, Nagornichna, and I'll be claiming it at some point.'

I nod and drop into a slight curtsy, as befits the occasion. This is the best that one could hope for.

'Thank you for your understanding.'

I walk into my dormitory, all of my remaining energy focussed on staying upright and not stumbling on my way to bed. Absently, I notice that Pansy and Tracey are both out of the room, though it's past curfew. Daphne lies asleep under the silk sheets that she brought from home, perfect skin contorted in a petulant frown.

When, feeling like each movement is more agonizing than the last, I change into my nightgown, stripping down in the open, chill air of the room, and get under my sheets, I fall asleep before I can even register that my eyes have shut.

* * *

 _Thursday 17th October_

I wake up the next morning, nightgown soaked in lukewarm sweat, the lace covering my collarbones clammy in the cold morning air. My entire body is heavy and tense from now-forgotten dreams. I remember nothing more than fear and a lingering sense of dread. A sense that something bad has happened, no, will be happening.

I sit up in bed, then immediately hunch over, pressing my forehead to the patch of blanket that covers my bent knees. The woollen blanket is scratchy and harsh against my forehead as I take deep breaths and try to calm down.

It's over.

It's happened.

There is nothing that I can do. Not now, not ever.

Unless-

Nothing that I can do.

I dispel the quiet, creeping thoughts that try and convince me that it was my fault- that perhaps if I'd loved them more, cared about them while they were still alive, they'd still be living now.

I take the guilt, and the enormous, unexpected gulf of sadness that threatens to consume me, and parcel them away in the place where I keep all the negative emotions that I can't allow to show. When I think about that place – which I try not to – I picture it as a hollow under the base of my ribcage, roiling with poison.

If there's one thing I can do, though, it's compartmentalise. I've been through a lot. I won't let this defeat me. I can't.

* * *

 _That afternoon, after classes._

'Miss Nagornichna.'

'Professor Dumbledore.'

I drop into a deep curtsy, an exaggerated version of the pureblood manners that I've had to learn.

'Have you managed to gather any more information since we last spoke?'

He's smiling. I think even he, this old man who's supposed to be so good, so tolerant, is more comfortable when I'm meek and subservient. Good girls are supposed to be quiet and obedient and pure. Good girls are supposed to know their place.

'I heard Pansy talking to Daphne late at night. When she thought that I was asleep. Malfoy still can't decide where his loyalties lie. That is, whether he will choose Lord Voldemort's wishes over the well-being of his family.'

Dumbledore gives me a slight smile, clearly humouring my inept spying and unnecessary clarifications. I continue, wanting to wipe that condescending look off his face.

'Lord Voldemort wants him to find a way to let deatheaters into Hogwarts. His father and Pansy both think that he should obey orders- that Voldemort is the future.'

This odd, wizened man, whom, over the past few weeks, I've come to mistrust, looks evenly at me.

'Yet Mr Malfoy still has some qualms about it. Why?'

His blue eyes twinkle in that odd way that doesn't seem quite natural, or real. I get the sense that he already knows the answer to his own question, and is more interested in my response than the answer itself.

'His mother tells him, through secret letters written when his father is not there, that they could always turn to the Order for help. That Voldemort promises a lot, but would think nothing of destroying their family if it would help further his aims.'

'Thank you, Miss Nagornichna. You're being a great help. Please continue to find out and report as much as you can.'

I bow my head and leave, the memory of those strange twinkling eyes lingering with me long after I leave.


End file.
